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Snickers, giggles. High heels click on cobblestones.
“Shh! Shh! Someone might hear us.”
“We’re so bad!”
“Oh, Oz, we’re gonna get arrested!”
Galinda’s got Shenshen’s hand all tangled up in hers, clammy and cool, tugging her along through the darkened central courtyard of Shiz University, while Shenshen has her arm linked through Pfannee’s, pulling him like a leaf on a current. The three of them, their own little daisy chain of Shiz first-years, laughing through the dark.
Tucked under Galinda’s free arm is a big, heavy book:
The Future and You! A Primer on Prescience, Premonition, and Psychic Powers
She’s stolen it—Borrowed! Borrowed it!—from that horrendible green roommate of hers.
They really aren’t supposed to leave campus at night.
But behind Briscoe Hall, alongside the shadowy canals, and out into the forest they go—far enough off the beaten path that they won’t land themselves in trouble, but close enough not to land themselves in a whole different kind of trouble. Pfannee spreads a blanket across the ground with a flourish, lights a lantern.
“After you, madame,” he says to Galinda with a little bow, and Galinda allows Shenshen to take her hand and help her to take a seat on the blanket. She spreads her skirts around her just so. Places that book down in front of her.
Pfannee and Shenshen take their seats on either side of her. Galinda spreads her palms out atop the book, feeling its grooves and contours, its warm leather.
A strange thrill moves through her. Something she’d normally categorize as nervousness, but, the situation being what it is, decides to label anticipation instead.
“What time is it?” she asks, staring at her own hands. The way the yellow lantern light casts deep shadows between her fingers, gleams on her perfectly-polished nails. Pfannee checks his watch.
“Eighteen seconds to the thirteenth hour,” he answers. “No, wait—seventeen. Sixteen, fifteen…”
Galinda takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, listening to him count down the moments. Shenshen joins in at, “Five, four, three, two—”
“Happy birthday!” the pair of them screech in unison. Galinda has to work hard to tamp down the silly little smile fighting its way free, as this is meant to be a serious occasion.
Oh, but they really are such dear friends!
“How does it feel to be nineteen?” Pfannee asks. “Oz, you must tell us so we can adequately prepare ourselves.”
Shenshen, across from him, nods furiously.
“It feels…” Galinda searches herself. How does it feel? So far, not too terribly different from eighteen, but in her defense, it’s only been a few seconds. “Well, I suppose it feels very nineteen,” she decides.
“And what’s that like?” Shenshen prods, and Galinda gives her her most serene, knowledgeable, nineteen smile.
“I suppose you’ll find out in a few months, won’t you?” Galinda says. Pfannee and Shenshen each draw in a sharp breath, nodding along. Galinda clears her throat. “Now, in celebrativity of this momentous occasion, and as I am now one year closer to becoming the sorceress I have always been destined to become, I will be performing a bit of birthday magic for the three of us.”
“Such talent!” Pfannee gushes to Shenshen.
“What spell are you going to cast on us?” Shenshen asks, voice breathless with awe and reverence and just a dash of nerves. Or perhaps it’s anticipation. Galinda can never tell the difference, for herself.
“Why, the perfect spell for an occasion such as a birthday,” Galinda says, flipping open the spellbook with a dramatic flourish. The pages give a crisp snap each time she turns one, skating past chapters and chapters of boring, pointless magical history until she lands at the spells section. She clears her throat; smiles. “The spell I shall cast here tonight will allow the three of us a vision of our lives, ten years into the future.”
“Ooh,” says Pfannee.
“Aah,” adds Shenshen.
Galinda’s heart thrums in her chest, knocking against her ribs. She draws in a deep, gathering breath. She must be serious about this, she thinks. Spellwork is a mysterious, serious thing. A skill that’s eluded her her whole life long. She reads over the chant again silently, mouthing the strange, foreign words as her finger traces the letters. Nerves, or anticipation, yet again. She shuts her eyes against it.
If Elphaba Thropp can do it, so can I.
It’s this thought that energizes her all over again. She sits up a little straighter and smiles a wide, half-dimpled grin at her delightful compatriots.
“Give me your hands,” she says. Both of them do, and reach for each other’s hands, for good measure. “Close your eyes,” Galinda tells them, “take a deep breath, and relax.”
“She’s going to bespellify us!” Pfannee trills, shutting his eyes but certitudinally not relaxing.
“Oh, Oz, I hope I marry rich,” Shenshen says.
“Shh!” Galinda snips. “Spellwork requires concentration!”
Shenshen and Pfannee both murmur little apologies and squirm where they sit. Galinda huffs out a breath, sits up straighter, shuts her eyes, and begins:
“Ohs-ten-deh, mi-i, f’tuh-ruhm,” she chants. A small breeze kisses her cheek on its way past. Is it working? “Ohs-ten-deh, mi-i, f’tuh-ruhm.” She packs a bit more oomph behind it this time. The trees around them rustle and whisper. Or is that one of her friends, whispering a nervous, anticipatory, oh, Oz, under their breath? Galinda clenches her jaw, squares her shoulders, and demands, “Ohs-ten-deh, mi-i, f’tuh-ruhm!”
A meaner wind whips between the trees, then disappears.
Aching, empty stillness.
Galinda’s palms are clammy, clutching Shenshen’s and Pfannee’s. She’d like to wipe them on her skirts, but she refuses to be the first to let go. Still, her fingers twitch.
“Well?” she asks after a beat. “Anyone seeing any visions of the future?”
“Not yet,” Shenshen says, “but maybe we should give it a minute.”
“Wait! I see—” Pfannee starts, then stops. “Oh, it’s gone, sorry. For a second there was definitely something there, though.”
“What about you, Galinda?” Shenshen asks. “Anything?”
And no, of course there’s nothing. Nothing but a hot ball of envy smoldering deep down in the pit of Galinda’s gut. Elphaba would’ve gotten it right, she thinks bitterly. That awful, phosphorescent artichoke, thanks to all the inexplicable special treatment she gets from Madame Morrible, thanks to her strange and undeserved talent, would be dancing amidst visions of the next fifty years of her life, at least.
Galinda clears her throat. “I believe the visions may come later, actually,” she tells them, dropping their hands. Wiping her palms on her skirts. “Anytime in the next day or so, really, or perhaps in your dreams tonight, so perhaps we should simply reconvene tomorrow and in the meantime be on the lookout—” Galinda opens her eyes, and she screams.
“Goodness, control yourself! Sweet Oz, the volume!” The figure—the woman—stands between the trees in a cascading pink ballgown and a scintillating crown. A princess.
“What? What is it?” Pfannee asks.
“Are you alright?” Shenshen frets. Turning to Pfannee: “Is she alright?”
Galinda lifts a shaking finger to point at the figure in the trees. “She’s—she’s—” Galinda says. “Don’t you see her?”
“Who?” Pfannee asks. “Who?”
“There’s no one there,” Shenshen says.
“She’s right there!” Galinda insists. “The princess!”
Pfannee screeches. “Oz, there must be a ghost! Oh, Lurline, she summoned a ghost! Run! Run!”
The two of them are off running before Galinda can even tell them to wait, leaving her stranded with the blanket, the lantern, and the book.
And the ghost.
The princess quirks an eyebrow, tips her head sideways, and recognition slams into Galinda all at once.
“Oh. Oz,” Galinda breathes, clambering to her feet and taking a step forward. Grass crunches underfoot. “You’re me.” She blinks several times, trying to keep her mouth closed, as gawping like this is a good way to catch flies, and a bad first impression to make on one’s future self, besides. “I’m—I’m a princess,” Galinda gasps, registering the crown, the dress. “We’re a princess!” She screams again, and this older version of herself winces prettily. “Oh, Oz, we’re a princess! I always knew I was destined to become a princess! Oh.” She lays the back of her hand across her forehead, suddenly feeling a bit faint.
“Almost,” Future-Galinda says, sighing dramatically. “We’re almost a princess.” Galinda spots the huge diamond on her hand.
“Engaged to a prince! We are engaged to a prince!” Galinda says,
“Well, we were, but I’m actually not really—I don’t wear the ring because—” Future-Galinda starts, sliding one hand over the other to hide the ring from view, but Galinda doesn’t hear her. She’s too busy swooning at the prospect.
She tumbles back onto the blanket behind her, and her older self steps forward further into the light, which gleams and glistens on the starry point of her gigantic magic wand. “And we’re a real-life sorceress to boot, oh, Oz! I guess I really do get everything I ever wanted, don’t I?”
There’s a wry, rueful smile on her future self’s face, and a strange snottiness with which she regards Galinda, but Galinda could honestly care less. I will have everything I ever wanted.
“How do we do it?” Galinda begs. “Please, tell me! I can keep a secret. I’ll make sure I skip zero steps along the way. Do we win over Madame Morrible? Oh, where do we meet a prince? Tell me everything, and leave nothing out! I need to make sure I get this exactly right so I don’t mess anything up for us.”
“I’m afraid I really can’t say,” Old Galinda tells her.
“Galinda, please,” Galinda pleads. “We don’t make mistakes. Not ones that will cost us a wedding to a prince,” she squeals again, kicking her feet, “and a life as a spellcaster! You know I’d never do a thing to jeopardize our astoundifyingly fortunate future! I swear I’ll get it all right if you just tell me.”
“It’s Glinda now,” her future self corrects her, and Galinda wrinkles her nose.
“Glinda?” Galinda repeats. “Like how that awful old Goat says it? What ever happened to our beautiful Ga?”
“Well, most people call me Glinda the Good, if that’s any consolation,” Glinda—Glinda the Good—offers. It’s not.
Galinda assesses her again. “And why do you look like you’re having a midlife crisis when everything in our life is so perfect?”
“Midlife—? I’m thirty!” Glinda snarls, crossing her arms. “I am nowhere near the middle of my life! I am the very picture of youth and vibraciousness—thirty is very young!” She stamps a foot.
Galinda blinks a few times. Thirty seems quite old to her. Very grown up. By thirty, she’d always assumed she’d have a house and a couple children. “Oh,” is all she can manage. “Well, whatever you say, I suppose.”
Glinda without a Ga takes a seat at the edge of the blanket with an irritated huff. Her skirt is like a floaty pink cloud all around her.
“Matters of the past and the future can be paradoxic, and confusifying,” Glinda says, not answering the question about the Ga. Perhaps it’s very tragic and traumatical and Galinda’s better off not knowing until it happens. Galinda rests a hand over her heart, comiserative. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you much, lest I risk ruinating everything terribly terribly.”
This makes sense, Galinda thinks.
“Do you have any advice, at least,” Galinda asks, “for the you of eleven years ago? How to get into Madame Morrible’s sorcery seminar, for instance?”
Glinda winces a bit. “I will give you only one piece of advice. Any more, and I’m afraid of what might happen,” she tells her, and Galinda sits up straighter, rapt. Studies her future face: not so dissimilar to her current face, but narrower in the cheeks, and tireder in the eyes.
She does look older to Galinda, no matter what she says. She tries not to read much into the exhaustion; most people grow tired around the eyes as they age. And Glinda said it wasn’t a midlife crisis, so Galinda’s got no choice but to believe her. Perhaps the duties of being a princess—or almost-princess, as the case may be—are quite taxing.
Glinda looks at her, meeting her gaze seriously seriously. “Enjoy Shiz as much as you possibly can,” she says. “It’s a spectaculifically special place, and the most important friends you’ll ever make are the ones you meet right here. Treasure every moment of your time here. It all ends far too soon. Time is something that—well. It goes quickly.”
This feels like rather generic grown-up advice. Still, Galinda folds it up and tucks it into a little corner of her heart. She tells herself she’ll remember to appreciate Pfannee and Shenshen more vocally, moving forward. Especially if they’re the most important friends she’ll ever make.
“And also—” Glinda starts, then stops herself. A little furrow carves itself between her brows.
“And what?” Galinda asks, soft, rapt with glittering eyes.
“It’s nothing,” Glinda says, waving the thought away as though it’s a gnat, brow smoothing out again. “Forget it. Nevermind. It’s too—” She stops. Her head tips to the side. “But maybe… No, no, Galinda, it’s terrible, you shouldn’t. You’re messing with things you don’t understand; you should leave it be.”
“I shouldn’t, or you shouldn’t?” Galinda asks, since it seems much more like Glinda is speaking to herself than to her. “What should we leave be?”
“Oh, I just—” Glinda looks up, desperate eyes boring into Galinda’s. The depth of emotion in them would make Galinda take a step back if she weren’t seated. Her heart begins to thud in her chest. “There is one thing I would change, if I could go back and do it all again. Just one thing, and everything would have turned out so differently!”
“Just say it,” Galinda prompts, quiet. “Perhaps I could help. I can fix it, if you tell me how.”
Glinda’s face hardens, steels. She scowls into the darkness of the woods around them for a beat, before making severe, serious, unflinching eye contact with Galinda.
“Alright, fine, my second piece of advice, then,” Glinda declares: “Stay away from Elphaba Thropp.”
Stay away from Elphaba Thropp is advice that Galinda would frankly be more than excited to take, were it not quite literally impossible to do.
She does, for what it’s worth, try to avoid her. As much as she physically can, anyway.
Elphaba Thropp is practically everywhere Galinda goes, every time she goes there, and involved in everything she does. That awful roommate of hers is always in the room when Galinda is; their courseload is identical (barring Elphaba’s private independent study with Madame Morrible); meals are served in the dining hall at the same time for everyone; Galinda has become pleasant acquaintances with Elphaba’s charming lovely sister, even, so—
Elphaba’s inevitable, and unavoidable.
Despite being a princess and a sorceress and everything Galinda’s ever really dreamed for herself, Galinda is not entirely sure how much she likes Glinda, this person she will supposedly become. Which is strange, because Galinda quite likes herself as she is now, and she figured that, with everything she could ever want, she’d only become a pleasanter, perfecter version of herself, if such a thing is even possible! But Glinda has given her advice she must know is rather impossible to take, and she had a strange surliness to her—an unsettling intensity; an air of moodification—that Galinda has a hard time not taking personally.
Perhaps it’s to do with the missing Ga. More likely, it’s to do with whatever that awful asparagus has done to her, but just in case, she’ll do her best to protect the Ga as well.
“It is Ga-linda,” she insists for the milli-dozenth time. “Ga-linda. Ga, Ga, Ga! It’s really not that difficult. Here, say it with me: Ga-lin-da.” The old Goat pins her with an unimpressed look that makes her blood boil. “Well, how would you like it if I started calling you Mr. Dilly from now on, hm? It would make you sound ridiculously ridiculous, and not serious one bit! The proper pronuncification of one’s name is an important sign of respect, Dilly, and I’m starting to get the sense that perhaps you don’t respectify me.”
“Perhaps if you wanted him to respect you, you might consider showing a bit of respect yourself.” Oh, and leave it to her horrendible roommate! Always something to say, that Elphaba Thropp.
Galinda gasps in affront. “This isn’t about you!” Galinda snaps. “Won’t you just mind your business for once? How would you like it if he only ever called you… called you… Fabala, or something equally absurd?”
Elphaba’s lips quirk up into an infuriating little smirk. “Actually, my nanny used to call me Fabala when I was growing up. I wouldn’t be terribly upset.”
Galinda’s going to crack a molar, from all the grinding her teeth this girl makes her do.
“Well, I think it sounds absurd,” Galinda huffs.
“If we are quite done here, Miss G-G-Glinda,” that horrendible old Goat bleats, “I believe the rest of the class might be a bit more interested in the lecture.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” she mumbles under her breath, and Dr. Dillamond’s eyes flash.
“If you find my mispronuncification of your name that offensive, Miss G-G-Glinda, you are more than welcome to see yourself out of my class and take the issue up with Dean Daley or Miss Coddle. But as I cannot physically pronounce your name, I am afraid it might be a bit of a waste of all our time.”
Galinda’s cheeks go hot and prickly. She slumps down in her seat.
“Now. Moving on,” he says.
Horrendible old Goat.
When Galinda glances over, Elphaba is still giving her an irritated, disappointed look. As though Galinda cares for Elphaba’s esteem one twig. Galinda scowls back.
Elphaba Thropp wouldn’t understand what’s at stake here. She’s only trying to protect the happiness of her future self!
Class drags on; Galinda takes notes. She also draws a rather unflattering doodle of Elphaba in the corner of her notebook and slides it towards Pfannee, who snickers less subtly than she would like and earns her another hard look from that grouchy old Goat.
She’s out of the room the moment class is excused, face prickling with an angry flush as she catches Elphaba’s eye and the subsequent eye-roll. Galinda hustles back to their suite, while Elphaba scurries off to… wherever it is she goes when she isn’t invading Galinda’s precious space, probably that horrendible, stuffy book place she loves oh-so-much. Galinda wonders what it is she even does there. Nothing, Galinda thinks, that can’t be done in their room. And as much as Galinda is glad to have the room all to herself, like she wanted it in the first place, she can’t help but think: Does Elphaba think she’s better than me, squirreling herself away half the day amongst the medium-rare sorcery tomes? Because she’s not.
Well, it’s no matter. Galinda gets a moment alone to attend to her midday costume change. Shoves some of the things Elphaba had piled on her side of the room back to their proper place on Elphaba’s, then sets about re-curling her hair. She changes into a silky lounge set and steps out onto the balcony to deliberate over what dress best says mid-afternoon.
It hits her like a bolt from the blue, or rather like a sudden smack in the face. A scrap of newspaper, flying in out of nowhere! Sputtering, offended, she yanks the thing away, fully prepared to ball it up and throw it, when she reads the headline printed across the page:
PRINCE FIYERO SPOTTED AT SHIZ
It’s not even a conscious thought in her head, really, but rather a sensation that thrums through her veins: This is it!
She squeals, darting back into the room.
A prince!
This is it, this is it, this is it!
This is the moment her perfect life begins!
This, she thinks, so obviously, is the man she’s going to marry. The prince who will make her a princess. This simply has to be it.
She covers herself in blush and perfume and darts down to the courtyard to meet him first.
He’s perfect.
Perfect, perfect, perfect. Tall and handsome and just rogueish enough to offset the fact that he’s an utter gentleman. Princely. She almost kisses him as she’s finishing up their guided tour together, but leaves him instead with a tight embrace and a shared breath and decides to make him wait for it.
“You’re a terrible tease, Miss Galinda,” he accuses, twinkling blue eyes fluttering open and not one ounce of unkindness or expectation in his voice.
“I’ll see you at the Ozdust later,” she tells him, voice pitched low and sultry, and swishes away with a hair toss and a wink. A passing breeze does her a favor, and ruffles her hair and skirt for her.
It’s only once she’s out of eye- and earshot that she squeals all over again. Hops up and down and twirls in a tight little circle, before sprinting for Pfannee’s dormitory so she can drag him and Shenshen back to her room for a debrief as they prepare themselves for the night ahead. Oh, she must tell them everything! He’s perfect, they’re perfect together!
“Do you think you’ll kiss him at the Ozdust tonight?” Pfannee asks, clapping his hands together and bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Do you think you’ll do more than kiss him?” Shenshen adds, dropping her voice low and conspiratorial. Both of them lean in close, and Galinda’s face burns with a hot blush; an uncomfortable squirm works its way down her spine. She waves the comment away with her hands.
“I don’t know, I don’t know! How scandalocious, really!” she says. “I hardly want to move too fast and scare the poor thing away, now, do I?”
She takes a huffy seat at her vanity, staring at her own reflection. She is quite pretty, though there’s work to do before tonight if she’s to snag a prince.
(A prince who seems to like her quite a bit already, full fairness. But still.)
(She will not let poor, exhausted Glinda-sans-Ga down! She will marry that prince!)
(Eleven years is an awful long time to still only be engaged. But what does Galinda know? There could be perfectly perfect reasons for such a long engagement. But, oh, she does hope they marry soon—she’s always wanted to have her children as young as possible.)
They primp and preen and, Oz bless, Elphaba stays tucked away wherever it is she goes when she’s not in their room.
“Uh, Galinda?” Pfannee prods at one point. Galinda turns and, to her absolute horror finds that old hat of her Granny’s—that one she’d explicitishly told Momsie and Popsicle without a fraction of a shadow of a doubt that she would not need here at Shiz—in his hands. The old thing’s got a sentimental value, but it’s hideodious; you couldn’t pay her in real money to place it on her head. Pfannee’s lip curls in disgust and confusification.
Galinda scrambles.
“I’d give it away,” she lies smoothly, turning back towards the vanity, “but I don’t hate anyone that much.”
A long look exchanged, and Galinda finds an idea sitting right there in the center of her mind, glittering like a gem. So perfect and beautiful and obvious, she’s shocked she hadn’t thought of it sooner. Her friends are clearly thinking the same.
She doesn’t hate Elphaba that much, not as much a Pfannee and Shenshen are implying. She means it, she doesn’t hate anyone that much. Elphaba is—well, she’s Elphaba. Surly and moodified and supercilious and stompy, always bringing down the mood wherever Galinda’s there trying to bring it up. But this—oh, this! This could be something. Mean-spirited enough to drive Elphaba out of her room and life forever, even, thus fulfilling her future self’s one and only request of her and perfectifying her life once and for all.
It would be horrendibly mean, though.
Still, she begins to argue, just to save face: “I couldn’t—”
The door to the suite swings open, banging against the wall as it does. In the doorway stands Elphaba Thropp, in all her green and hawkish glory. She surveys Galinda and her friends with a sniff of disdain, quite literally looking down her nose at Galinda.
“Am I interrupting something?” she asks, scowling.
Pfannee and Shenshen flee the scene, tittering and giggling and signaling behind Elphaba’s back to do it, do it! as they shuffle out of the room. They shut the door (politely, quietly! Elphaba could stand to learn.) behind them as they go.
And then it’s just Elphaba and Galinda.
Elphaba starts: “Listen, Galinda,” and she sounds far less combative than she often does, so Galinda sits up a bit straighter, compelled, “Nessa and I were just talking about you, and—”
Her long, polished nails (and Galinda wonders where she gets them done, why she bothers making them so nice when she’s so… her) rap against the top of the pile of spellbooks she’s just set down, and Galinda’s stomach gives a jealous twist. She remembers her mission, and clears her throat to interrupt:
“Well, we were just talking about you!” she chirps, finding herself a taller perch to sit upon so she can look down, a bit, on Elphaba for once. “How you should join us tonight, at the Ozdust.”
Elphaba frowns. Her eyes dart down to her hands, then back up to Galinda’s face. She looks a bit taken aback. “Me?” she asks.
“Yes, you,” Galinda says, twirling a recently-curled ringlet around her pointer finger. She smiles as big and mean as she can muster. “And don’t tell me you have nothing to wear, because you could wear this.”
She pulls the hat out from behind her back, holds it out to Elphaba.
She holds her breath. Waits for it to click. Waits for Elphaba to scowl and rage and shout and reject her. To declare this is the last straw, one bridge too far, the final insult she’ll tolerate, and how dare Galinda? How dare she? Waits for her to understand exactly what Galinda is trying to do to her.
But Elphaba doesn’t. She considers the hat carefully. And Galinda—does she want her to rage and shout? Something sick and slimy twists in her gut at the fact that she’s met with quiet thoughtfulness instead.
Oh, Oz, Elphaba really is that hopeless, isn’t she? Despite her well-kept nails and her gorgeous, time-intensive hair, she’s got no idea what a despicable blunder wearing such a hat would be!
She gently takes the hat from Galinda’s hands. Galinda lets her, though she’s tempted to hang onto it. It is, after all, a very sentimental thing, despite all its atrocious uglification.
But she lets Elphaba take it. Lets Elphaba examine it from all angles. Elphaba has this considering look in her eye, like maybe to her the thing isn’t ugly at all, which puts another strange and jealous twist through Galinda’s stomach. Galinda opens her mouth, prepared to give Elphaba the hard sell anyway, but Elphaba looks up at her with a slight smile on her lips—a look Galinda has never seen her wear before in their entire time together as roommates—and, oh, but it makes Galinda feel some type of way.
Stupid Elphaba, she thinks, cruel and mean, doesn’t even realize what an ugly thing I’ve given her. What an ugly thing I’ve done to her. What an ugly thing—
What an ugly thing she is? But no, that’s not right, is it? Not fair. A much meaner thought than Galinda’s used to letting herself think, and untrue, besides. Elphaba’s not really ugly—well, aside from her dreadful personality, that is. She’s just… green. But the features of her face: wide golden-green eyes, deliciously sharp cheekbones, full and soft and most likely very kissable lips, a light smattering of charming freckles. None of it’s ugly. In fact, without the green, Galinda honestly thinks she’d be rather stunningly beautiful, altogether. Almost as beautiful as Galinda herself.
“Thank you,” Elphaba says softly, and it hits Galinda like a kick to the ribs. “I’ll…” She waves the hat around a bit, like she’s trying to capture the words she’s looking for in it. “I don’t really do parties, but I’ll think about it.”
“Do think about it, darling,” Galinda says. Her hand lights on Elphaba’s forearm, then draws away with a sudden electric shock. She draws her smarting fingers to her lips. Elphaba winces, too, drawing back. Clears her throat.
“Sorry,” she mutters. “My… magic.”
A flash of jealous heat. Galinda fakes a smile. She no longer feels quite so bad at all about this.
“Most of us are meeting at the docks at the eleventh hour,” Galinda tells her, turning back to her vanity to freshen up her lip gloss one last time. “Don’t miss the boat. I’ll see you there.”
She’s well-versed, at this point, at sneaking off campus. Having done it at least once before, when others have done it nonce before.
Fiyero meets her just outside the dormitory, offering his arm to her like the perfect gentleman-prince he is. Galinda swoons, gripping his elbow with a dainty hand.
“How lucky am I?” he leans down to whisper into her ear. “To have met the prettiest girl Shiz has to offer on my very first day here.”
“You’re a flirt and a flatterer,” Galinda accuses, blushing furiously. It’s a bit like embarrassment, the feeling of being admired by him.
“Is it working?” Fiyero asks. Galinda clucks her tongue and doesn’t give this a response, but she’s sure her body language—the buzzing heat that must be radiating off her skin—gives her away entirely.
Oh, and she’s trying so hard to be coy! Stupid blushy cheeks of hers!
“Hang on a moment, lovely,” Fiyero says, and him calling her lovely—she almost trips over her feet. She’ll blame that on the deadly combination of heels and cobblestones, but Fiyero gives her a sly smile like he knows anyway, and she wants to shove him for it. He reaches up, and she admires all the tall and graceful length of his body as he plucks a pink rose from high up on a trellis. “Hold still,” he says, voice still pitched low like they’re sharing a secret, and then tucks the rose into her hair. “Perfect.”
She thinks of Pfannee asking, Do you think you’ll kiss him? Of Shenshen: Do you think you’ll do more than kiss him? Galinda’s still not entirely sure, but signs, right now, point to yes on both counts. His singular, focused attention is enough to make her dizzy.
His hands are warm and steady at her waist as he helps her down into the wobbly little skiff. He follows quickly, sitting on the bench beside her and draping an arm over her shoulders. She pretends to shiver and cuddles closer into his warmth, entirely aware of the way Pfannee and Shenshen murmur little awes to each other, of the way she and Fiyero look seated beside one another.
Her eyes scan the crowd for that Oz-awful hat. Or for Elphaba, without it. Her heart thrums in—oh, nervousness maybe? Or is it anticipation again? She really must learn to tell the two apart.
The boat is preparing to cast off, and at that last moment—not Elphaba, but Elphaba’s tragically beautiful younger sister, a vision in off-white and poppy red, and that pestery little Munchkin boy who’s such a perfect match for her come swinging around the corner. Galinda slips out from under Fiyero’s arm and stands, and the two of them help Nessarose board the boat, while other students help her date (Biq, was it?) to fold up her chair and get it onboard as well.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” Galinda gushes, tucking herself up against Fiyero’s side again with Nessarose on her other side. “I’m so glad B—” Biq? Boq? Best not to attempt it, if you’re not entirely certain. “—he asked you! I told him you’d make the most beauteous pair together.”
“Thank you, Galinda,” Nessarose says. She ducks her head. She has a similar seriousness and severity to her sister, Galinda thinks, but she’s much softer around the edges, more sociable. Enough to make her rather wonderful, altogether. “Genuinely, thank you. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”
Galinda beams at her and knocks their shoulders together. “I do love helping others,” she says, and shakes out her hair. “And I am quite the matchmaker, if I do say so myself. You two make a wonderful couple.”
“Well—couple—I’m not sure—” Nessarose stammers, blushing, as B…eq? swings into the seat beside her, leaning forward to smile at Galinda.
“What are we all talking about here?” he asks, eyes darting up to Fiyero for a moment and smile tightening. Fiyero squeezes Galinda around the waist, and the boat pushes off from the dock.
Galinda’s not, by the way, disappointed that Elphaba hadn’t shown up. She’s just—well, rather perplexed.
She shouldn’t be. Elphaba had said she doesn’t do parties, and Oz, Galinda has trouble even picturing her at one. But now, Galinda’s afraid she’ll have to come up with another scheme to drive Elphaba out of their room, since offending her with the hat hadn’t worked. She hates that Elphaba forces her to bring out her mean side. Still, Elphaba’s mean enough herself, Galinda thinks, that she perhaps deserves the meanness that comes her way.
The Ozdust is the type of place Galinda’s only imagined. Carved of crystal, half underwater, music echoing and ricocheting off every surface. A live band of Animals playing a raucous beat. Fiyero leads her to the bar with a hand on the middle of her back, and she’s giggling and stumbling before he can even get her first drink.
And the drinks! Smoky Quadling whiskey and sharp lemon and sweet honey and foamy egg white come together to create something utterly dreamy, and that’s just what Fiyero orders for himself and lets her have a sip of! Her drink is a multicolored swirl of pink and orange to match her dress—sticky-sweet and perfume-floral and fruity and sour and delectable! She can barely even taste the alcohol in it! She and Fiyero down another pair of drinks at the bar before making their way to the dance floor.
There in the center of it all, Galinda can just picture how the rest of this bar—how the rest of Shiz—is seeing her. The future princess. Petite and pink and—well, not precisely graceful, since Fiyero has had to steady her once or twice as they dance, but it’s always with a sweet smile on his face.
“You alright, dearest?” he offers. “You need a breather? Or a glass of water?”
“Don’t be such a worrywart, I’m fine,” Galinda says, pulling herself in closer.
“Just fine?” he asks, smoothing a hand over her hair. She closes her eyes, tilts her head up towards him. “Nothing more than that?”
“I could be,” she whispers, and the sound of the music almost disappears to her. All she can hear is her own heartbeat, her own breathing. Nerves, or anticipation.
Fiyero’s hand cups her cheek, fingers utterly gentle. He has to tilt her face up much further than she expects, and it makes her neck ache a bit. She strains up on her tiptoes. (He really is so tall!)
She exhales with a sharp, shocked gasp when their lips connect. His are warm and dry. He’s good at this, compared to boys she’s kissed before. Her heartbeat picks up a notch; she can hear the blood rushing in her ears. A prickly feeling a bit like goosebumps breaks out all over her skin and makes her squirm. She feels her lipgloss smear across his mouth, feels him lick it off her bottom lip, and it’s this that suddenly makes her break away, laughing. How odd!
She opens her eyes to find him staring down at her, smiling.
“Well, hello there,” he says to her. He’s got a smudge of her pink lipstick at the corner of his lips, and it makes her laugh again, suddenly profoundly embarrassed. What a scene she’s just made! She ducks her head into his chest and feels him wrap his arms around her. “What, shy all of a sudden?”
“Buy me another drink, Fiyero,” she demands.
“Your wish is my command, darling.”
He sweeps her back off to the bar again, passing by Nessarose and her date as they go. The Munchkin boy catches her eye just for a moment, before twirling Nessarose theatrically and pressing a kiss to her cheek that turns her as red as the details on her dress.
How sweet, Galinda thinks, along with, I really am quite good!
She and Fiyero order a tasting flight of different wines to try together. His favorite is a dry white, and hers is a sweet rosé. They duck behind a column to giggle and kiss some more, and yes, she thinks she quite likes kissing him, except for the problem of his being so much taller than her and it hurting her neck sometimes to crane up like that.
Someone clears their throat.
Galinda whips around.
It takes a moment for her mind to put together the pieces, to recognize—
“Madame Morrible!”
Madame Morrible—here, of all places. Staring archly down her nose at Galinda, one eyebrow raised. She waves off Fiyero, and Galinda waves him off, too, never taking her eyes off Morrible’s elegant frown. Oh, Oz, are they in trouble? Is Morrible going to expellify them? Galinda finds herself babbling nonsense, hardly aware of the words coming out of her mouth, until Morrible silences her with one hand raised and a harsh:
“Enough.”
Galinda shuts up faster than she’s ever shut up in her life. Morrible passes her something—something her brain also has trouble quantifying just now. Oh, she really shouldn’t have had that extra glass of wine! She’s being rather bad tonight, for someone so good, isn’t she?
“A magic wand,” Galinda finally murmurs, dumbly.
“It’s a training wand,” Morrible tells her, too professional to roll her eyes but with an eye roll caught in the sound of her voice. Galinda feels a sharp pang of shame at her own foolishness.
“For me?” she says, still feeling utterly idiotical. She stammers: “How can I express my gratitution? It is my heart’s desire to become a sorceress—thank you for having faith in me—”
“Actually, I have no faith in you,” Morrible cuts her off, and it’s like someone’s dumped a cold bucket of water over Galinda’s head. “This is your roommate’s idea, not mine.”
Galinda blinks. Her mind is moving slow and fuzzy. Elphaba’s idea? “I’m confused,” she murmurs, staring at the wand in her hands; feeling its weight and coolness.
Morrible makes a face that says, me, too. “Miss Elphaba,” she says, “has asked that I include you in our sorcery seminar, and insisted that I tell you this very night or she would quit.”
Another beat. Galinda’s having real trouble making sense of any of this. Her limbs feel warm and fuzzy; her heart is beating a bit faster in her chest. “Elphaba did?” she clarifies, and will she ever stop sounding like a little fool in front of Madame Morrible? Oz, this is why the woman can’t tolerate her.
“Mhm,” Morrible hums, with a little nod. Like she’s talking to a child. Galinda feels hot all the way through her. Shame, humilification—
“But—but, why?” Galinda asks.
Madame Morrible finally huffs in frustration, snapping, “I’m a sorceress, not a mind-reader. I have no idea why, but I can’t risk losing her. So here I am.”
Galinda clears her throat quietly. Casts about for something to say to all this. This is what she wanted—wants. She should be ecstatical. She loves getting what she wants.
“My personal opinion, dear,” Madame Morrible says, interrupting her train of thought, and Galinda looks back up at her again, “is that you do not have what it takes.” It hits Galinda like another blow, and she tries to swallow it down with as much grace, dignity, and composure as she can manage. “I hope you prove me wrong,” Morrible offers, and Galinda almost bites onto that as an ounce of consolation when Morrible tips her head to the side, eyes narrowing, appraising, and finishes with: “I doubt you will.”
Galinda’s stomach drops right down to the floor, she thinks. Oh, oh, oh, how she wishes she weren’t so tipsy right now! She feels strangely like crying, but she’d never be so uncouth as to cry in front of other people (unless, of course, they’re artful and well-earned tears that make her look pretty, but she has the feeling Madame Morrible isn’t too predisposed to feeling sorry for her, so she’ll save it). She swallows it back as Morrible says something about Elphaba on her way—
Elphaba!
“Elphaba’s here?” Galinda asks. “I have to go!” And she’s already scrambling, leaving her stomach behind her on the floor with her heart in her throat. She finds Fiyero, all but crashing into his side, gripping his arm tight with both hands.
“Whoa,” he says with a little laugh, steadying her. “What’ve you got there?” he asks, indicating the wand.
“It’s a training wand. Whatever. Have you seen Elphaba?”
Fiyero raises his eyebrows. “Elphaba? You think she’d come to something like this?”
“I was told—she’s here, she’s—”
A sudden hush falls over the crowd, followed by some harsh whispers and a mean snicker. Icy nerves—and yes, this time she’s certain it’s not anticipation, because she wants to stop, stop, stop the next moment from coming altogether—sweep down her neck.
“Galinda,” Fiyero says, squeezing her upper arm. Slowly, slowly, she turns.
There, coming down the stairs with that hideodious hat on her head, is Elphaba Thropp. A striking silhouette upon the staircase, cast in the cool light from above.
To Galinda’s left, she hears Pfannee and Shenshen tittering together:
“—can’t believe she actually wore it—”
“—Galinda’s too good!”
Galinda stares down at the wand in her hand, at her feet.
The laughter only grows as Elphaba continues to descend the stairs. Galinda can’t look, she won’t, she—
A gasp, a hush. Galinda looks up. The crowd parts, and Elphaba is right in front of her. Elphaba takes the hat off her head, examining it in the swirling lights. She casts a glance up again, towards Galinda, and some kind of understanding dawns on her face.
Hurt.
This is what Galinda wanted, wasn’t it? To do something so awful, it would drive Elphaba away forever and ensure her most perfect possible future?
Then why, she wonders, does it feel like this?
I didn’t want this! She wants to take Elphaba by the shoulders and shake her and scream: This wasn’t what I wanted! This wasn’t what I meant to do!
But wasn’t it? Wasn’t it? Galinda bites the inside of her cheek against the twist of nausea in her stomach and blames it on the alcohol.
Elphaba dances. Alone in the silence. Proud and defiant. Pretty nails, pretty hair, arguably even pretty dress. She’s without her glasses, which is an uncommon sight. Galinda can’t look away. If she were anyone else, Galinda might even say she looks beautiful.
Elphaba replaces the hat back on her head, and this time meets Galinda’s eye direct, unflinching. Galinda ducks her head. Her face prickles and stings with the force of her shame.
Elphaba continues to dance.
“I’ll say this much,” Fiyero whispers into Galinda’s ear, “she doesn’t give a twig what anyone thinks.”
But Galinda can see it in the way she stands, the way she moves, the way her eyes dart around the room and her jaw stays set in place: “Of course she does. She just pretends not to.”
The laughter in the room swells.
“I feel awful,” Galinda murmurs.
“Why?” Fiyero says, nudging her shoulder. “It’s not like it’s your fault.”
Your fault, your fault, your fault. The words echo and ricochet through Galinda’s skull. And perhaps it’s the drinks that make her do it, perhaps it’s the overwhelming pressure of her shame, or a need to free herself from the crushing squeeze of secondhand embarrassment, but Galinda finds herself pressing her brand new practice wand into Fiyero’s hands, stepping forward to meet Elphaba on the dance floor.
Elphaba stares her down, hard-edged and wary, and it stings Galinda to be looked at that way even though she knows she’s earned it.
Her attempts to dance like Elphaba are fumbling and clumsy. Her arms flail about, she almost trips over her feet. She looks to Elphaba for a clue, but Elphaba gives her nothing but that continued hard stare. So Galinda whirls and twirls in the thorny silence and stumbles her way right into another body, one that catches her swiftly at the shoulders and whispers into her ear, “Stop.”
Galinda whips around, and finds herself staring into her own eyes.
“Didn’t I tell you to stay away from her?” Glinda warns. “This is precisely what you shouldn’t be doing!”
“But I—” Galinda starts.
“Galinda, please,” Glinda begs, and her own dark eyes are so—so intense, her own nails digging into her upper arms. “Don’t be such a fool! Listen to me! I’m trying to help you.”
Galinda opens her mouth to say something else, shuts it again. Another glance over her shoulder at Elphaba, the false proud tilt of her jaw and the defeated slope of her shoulders, makes up Galinda’s mind for her.
“No,” Galinda says, shaking Glinda off of her. “I don’t want to hurt her. I have to fix it.”
“Who is she talking to?” Shenshen mutters, just to Galinda’s left. Galinda glances quickly in their direction.
“I think she’s just drunk,” Pfannee whispers back.
When Galinda looks back again, Glinda has disappeared. She turns back to Elphaba, begging with her eyes for a bit of direction. Please, please, show me what to do. Show me how to fix this.
Finally, finally, a crack in the armor. Elphaba reaches out. Galinda reaches back.
They dance. Elphaba leads, Galinda follows.
The next thing she knows, Elphaba is crying, and Galinda is stroking the tears from her cheeks with her thumbs. The moment after that, they’re all wrapped up in one another’s arms, cheek to cheek and swaying slightly, and Galinda feels comfortably warm for the first time all night. The moment after that, the ballroom is alive with music again. Their fellow students dance and twirl all around them, and Galinda weaves her fingers through Elphaba’s and shouts into her ear to be heard over the music and singing:
“I’m so glad you came!”
Elphaba pulls back with a soft, uncertain smile and squeezes Galinda’s hand.
“Now, come on!” Galinda screams, “Let’s get you a drink!”
She tugs Elphaba behind her through the crowd, abandoning every thought that isn’t about getting the two of them to the bar as quickly as possible.
Elphaba likes earthy dark red wines. She sips slowly, savoring, and lets the wine leave a bluish-purplish tint on her lips. When she smiles and laughs, Galinda can see the little gap between her two front teeth. It makes her look young, Galinda thinks, when so much else about her makes her seem older than she is.
“I don’t mean to keep you from your date,” Elphaba says shyly, glancing over Galinda’s shoulder. Galinda turns and waves at Fiyero, who waves back.
“Oh, he’ll be fine,” Galinda decides. “It’s his party, after all.”
“If you’re sure,” Elphaba says, ducking her head.
“How did you even get here?” Galinda wonders aloud, sucking down bubbly rosé as fast as the bartender is willing to serve it to her. “You missed the boat. You were late! After I told you not to be!”
“I found a boat of my own—” Elphaba starts, but Galinda cuts her off:
“You’re not wearing your glasses! Can you see without your glasses?” Galinda wiggles her pointer finger right in front of Elphaba’s eyes, and Elphaba laughs and swats Galinda’s hand away. “Hey! It’s an honest question—”
“I can get by without them just fine,” Elphaba says, though there’s a bemused smile lodged in the corner of her lips that Galinda decides she’d like to try and keep there, because she rather likes the shape of it. “I’m just a bit nearsighted, so it can be hard to read what’s on a chalkboard without them. I need them for class.”
“I like them,” Galinda decides. “If I had to wear glasses, Oz forbid, but if I had to, I’d wear ones like yours.”
“Oz forbid,” Elphaba repeats. Galinda claps a hand over her mouth.
“Oh, Oz, I’m sorry! There I go again, insultifying you! I’m turning over a new leaf, Elphaba, I swear it! I didn’t mean—I mean, now that we’re friends—oh, we are friends, aren’t we?—I mean, anyway, glasses suit your face, Miss Elphaba, but mine is tragically not so shaped for frames! But yours are quite flattering nevertheless.”
“You can try them on sometime if you like, Miss Galinda,” Elphaba offers, and adds, “Yes, I do suppose we’re… friends,” and Galinda leaps up out of her seat squealing, even though Elphaba pulls a strange, sour face, like she’s not sure about all that. Galinda has to grab onto Elphaba to stabilize herself as she hops to her feet, and Elphaba’s hands land on her waist just as urgently, keeping her from toppling to the ground.
“Are we?” Galinda asks. “Are we really?”
“I mean… sure. I’ve never really had a friend before, so if you say that’s what we are,” Elphaba starts, and Galinda grabs her hand and tugs her along.
“We must go now, then,” Galinda decides. “I simply must see what I look like in your glasses immedi-ishly. And, oh, there’s so much to talk about, Miss Elphaba! So much to discussify. So many secrets to tell one another. I have nineteen years of life I must get you all caught up on, and you’ve got—what, twenty? Twenty-one? That’s two more than nineteen—it’ll take us ages to get through it! We must start now if we’re to have any hope at all.”
“Wait—right now?” Elphaba asks. “Don’t you want to say goodbye to anyone first?”
“Pfft.” Galinda waves this concern away. “They’ll know I’m gone.”
“Not even your date?” Elphaba raises an eyebrow.
“I’m cultivating an air of mystery,” Galinda sighs, fluttering her eyelashes at Elphaba.
“Okay, well, can I at least finish my drink first? Since I paid for it?” Elphaba asks, and that hiddenish smile’s back. “And maybe convince you to drink a glass of water before we go?”
“Finish, finish your drink!” Galinda urges, tugging them back to their seats at the bar. She realizes she’s left a champagne flute still mostly full of sparkling rosé herself, and gasps in halfway-surprised delight. “Wait! I’ll finish mine, too, and then we’ll go.”
When Galinda drags Elphaba out of the Ozdust, the party’s still raging on, and it probably will much further into the night. Galinda’s always known to leave people wanting more of you rather than to leave them wishing they’d seen less, and to never stay at a party past when it’s still fun. Elphaba doesn’t seem to know these rules for parties, and Galinda takes great pleasure in explaining to her.
Galinda keeps stumbling sideways, her shoulder bumping against Elphaba’s, and Elphaba keeps having to nudge her steady again so she doesn’t list sideways.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Elphaba checks. “You seem a little—”
“Peachy!” Galinda interrupts with a broad smile. “Help me board the boat.”
Elphaba’s hands are not quite as strong and sure as Fiyero’s, helping her into the wobbly boat they find, but they turn Galinda fuzzy-warm where they touch her. It’s probably Elphaba’s magic, she thinks—the same way it had shocked her before. That, or it’s the fact that she’s perhaps a tad drunk. Her feet are stumbly, and she almost topples into the water, screaming, but Elphaba catches both her hands at the last second and eases her down onto the little bench at the front of their tiny skiff with its tiny sail.
“Do you know how to work this thing?” Galinda asks, leaning over the edge of the boat to trail her fingers through the water. It’s horrendibly cold.
“It’s not difficult,” Elphaba says, letting out some rope. It’s not a terribly breezy night, but still the boat manages to catch wind and begins to pull out from the docks. Galinda wonders, again, if it might not just be Elphaba’s magic.
“Well, I’ve never done it,” Galinda argues.
“Would you like me to show you how?” Elphaba offers.
“Oh, Elphaba,” Galinda whines, “when will I ever use a skill like that?”
Elphaba smirks to herself, shaking her head. “Suit yourself,” she says.
Galinda sits back and watches her work. Even in her party dress, Elphaba’s quite good at this. And despite sleeves that go all the way down to her wrists, it’s obvious watching her move that she’s got rather magnificent arms: strong and shapely, accented by elegant hands tipped with pretty, well-manicured fingernails.
Galinda’s got not much else to do other than stare at Elphaba. The two of them in their tiny little sailboat on the open water; the lights of Shiz the township shining at their aft, the lights of Shiz University glimmering in the water off their bow. Galinda’s head is starting to feel rather swimmy, altogether, with the rocking of the boat and the lights and the drinking.
She’s never drank this much before.
“The green doesn’t come off,” Elphaba says sarcastically, a little grin still tucked away, but a small furrow between her brows.
“Huh?” Galinda asks.
“You’re staring at me,” Elphaba points out, and Galinda blinks furiously, rubbing at her eyes and trying to find somewhere else to look.
“I might have to keep staring at you,” Galinda decides. “Nothing else is quite so interesting to look at right now, I’m afraid.”
Elphaba lifts her eyes to meet Galinda’s. Even under the shadowy brim of that awful hat, Galinda sees Elphaba lift an eyebrow. “Is that so?” she asks.
“Well, what else am I meant to be looking at?” Galinda huffs. “The boring water? The boring lights?”
“I think the lights are beautiful,” Elphaba argues.
“Of course you do.” Galinda rolls her eyes. When she looks back, Elphaba is staring back at her. Grinning. Galinda sighs, tossing out her hair about it. The motion makes her head swim. “And my hair does stay blonde, if you were wondering. Since you’re the one staring at me now.”
Elphaba huffs out a small, disbelieving laugh.
A beat. The silver light of the full moon shines down on them. In the darkness, Elphaba doesn’t even look green anymore.
Oh, but she really is so pretty! Such a shame no one sees it, Galinda thinks.
She decides she’s done with their little staring competition, and that the only way to resolve it is to face the same direction.
She lunges forward, stumbles, catches herself on the opposite bench with both hands.
“Whoa!” Elphaba says, hands coming up to grip her waist. “Easy! Don’t fall in.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Galinda sniffs haughtily, letting Elphaba help her ease down onto the bench beside her. The little skiff rocks dangerously back and forth, and Elphaba winces back from the water as it splashes up onto her. “Are you alright?” Galinda asks, reaching for her hand and pulling it into her lap. “It didn’t hurt you, did it?”
“No,” Elphaba laughs. “Why would it? It’s just water.”
“You just, you went—” Galinda imitates Elphaba’s small wince.
“It’s cold,” Elphaba says.
“Hm. Quite,” Galinda decides, and, though the air’s only mildly chilly, nestles in close to Elphaba’s side. “And I’ve no jacket or sleeves or anything. Keep me warm?”
Slowly, cautiously, like she’s afraid it’s some kind of trick, Elphaba lowers her arm to wrap around Galinda’s bare shoulders. Galinda hums sweetly and shuts her eyes, nuzzling her face into Elphaba’s neck. She can hear and feel Elphaba suck in a sharp, sudden breath.
“That’s better,” Galinda mumbles, safe from the not-so-biting wind and the bitter cold of water that hasn’t really touched her but could.
“Is it?” Elphaba asks, voice tight as a bowstring. Her body is tight and tense, too. It’s the oddest thing—it’s not like Galinda is going to hurt her.
But she’s got no reason to believe you won’t, does she? The voice in Galinda’s head sounds much like that of her pestery older self, and it peeves her a bit. The atrocious know-it-all. Is that, she wonders briefly, why Glinda had warned her off of Elphaba? Not because of what Elphaba would do to Galinda, but because of what Galinda might do to Elphaba? Because she’s lived with the guilt of being so awful to her for so long now? It hits her with a sudden pang, her own disappointment in herself.
She’s changed her mind about Elphaba. Perhaps that’s all the change her future really needed, in the end.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Galinda announces, twining her arms around Elphaba’s waist. She is so wonderfully warm, and isn’t it nice that she’s practically Galinda’s exact same size? It makes holding her rather easy and intuitive.
“Aren’t you?” Elphaba asks, and there’s a bit of an edge to her voice now.
Galinda lifts her head, finds Elphaba’s eyes.
“No,” she answers softly. “Not anymore. I’m all done with that now. I’ll be perfectly nice from now on, and I won’t even mention how your blouses have begun to creep into my drawers.”
“Hm,” Elphaba muses. There’s a lingering blueness to her face, solemn and mistrustful. The word sorry finds itself stuck in Galinda’s throat, unable to dislodge itself despite how badly it wants to. Galinda stares at her for a good long while, and Elphaba stares back. Oh, Galinda had meant to end all this staring! But it’s like they’re looking at one another for the first time all over again.
She’s lovely. It’s not the first time Galinda’s noticed it tonight, but it’s the first time she feels compelled to say something.
“Oh, Elphaba,” Galinda blurts, one hand coming up to cradle her face. “You’re so beautiful.”
“I thought you said you weren’t going to hurt me,” Elphaba accuses. Her face shutters itself off, turning away from Galinda, putting cold space between them immediately. Galinda has to catch herself on the edge of the boat as it rocks wildly from Elphaba’s sudden shift.
“I’m not,” Galinda says, pouting.
“Then don’t lie to me,” Elphaba snarls. “Don’t joke about things like that. That’s hurtful.”
“I’m not lying! And it wasn’t a joke, it’s—” Galinda says, stomping her foot. “Elphaba—Elphie, look at me—” She gasps, sitting up straighter. “Can I call you Elphie?”
Elphaba looks at her out of the corner of her eye, face half-obscured by the shadows beneath her hat, like she’s afraid to look at Galinda head-on.
“It’s a bit perky,” she says after a beat, voice still tinged with defensiveness.
“I know,” Galinda coos, squeezing close to Elphaba again. It makes the skiff list a bit sideways, which makes Galinda a bit dizzy. She leans harder into Elphaba. Elphaba nudges them both closer to the center of the bench to reset the equilibrium. “But I’m going to call you that.”
Elphaba sighs, tipping her head back to the sky like she’s looking for some sort of divine intervention. But it brings her face back into view from underneath that horrendible hat, and, oh.
“And you can call me… Galinda,” Galinda decides.
Elphaba laughs a little in the back of her throat. “That is your name.”
“Let’s not quarrel.” Galinda wobbles and sways a bit, and Elphie has to steady her. “Oh. Elphie, I mean it.” Galinda’s hand comes up to cradle Elphaba’s cheek all over again, directing her to look into her eyes. “You really are just beautiful.”
Elphaba’s lips fall open, just the tiniest bit—shock, uncertainty—and Galinda doesn’t think. She just covers them with her own. Her hands knock that disgusticified hat off Elphaba’s head, and she hears it drop with a quiet thud into the hull of the skiff.
Warmth blooms through her, unfurling and twisting and curling. At first, Elphaba sits stock-still, but when Galinda’s hand squeezes at her waistline, when Galinda’s tongue prods at her lower lip, she exhales shakily through her nose and tentatively kisses back. She moves slower than anyone’s ever moved kissing Galinda, and it’s a lightning bolt shock of lightheadedness anyway. Galinda’s teeth pinch at Elphaba’s bottom lip, and Elphaba grunts quietly. Her hands finally fall to Galinda’s hips, and she squeezes once—heat blossoms inside of Galinda, in that space between Elphaba’s hands, and Galinda wonders briefly again if she’s done some sort of magic—before pulling quickly away. Hands, lips, all of her.
“Is this—? Are we—?” Elphaba stammers. She grips the bench. Galinda blinks, waits for her to say more. She just brings one hand up to prod at her lower lip. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but Elphaba’s cheeks look a bit flushed. “Is this okay?” Elphaba asks finally.
“It’s okay,” Galinda assures her. “It’s okay,” and she swings a leg over Elphaba’s thighs to plop herself right down into Elphaba’s lap. Both hands cradle Elphaba’s jaw, and she pulls her back in for another kiss. Elphaba’s breath hitches, and the sound shoots right through Galinda’s body, a little zing.
Elphaba’s hands find her hips, her waist sooner and surer this time. She’s not exactly feeling Galinda up, but her fingers tighten and loosen against Galinda’s flesh, a rhythmic squeeze-and-release that makes Galinda groan and squirm closer. Her own hands climb up Elphaba’s sides, scratch at the sides of her neck, slide into her hair. It’s all teeth and tongue, lip gloss and spit—a messy thing that has Galinda panting as she detaches her lips from Elphaba’s to lathe a tongue over the side of Elphaba’s neck, to suck on her earlobe. Galinda’s head has never been spinnier. She’s got no coordination left, no thought. Just this. Just this.
“Galinda, what are you—?” Elphaba sighs. She’s not asking Galinda to stop, but she does keep mumbling, “Galinda, what is this? What are you doing?”
Stop talking, Galinda wants to tell her, don’t ask questions right now, but that would require lifting her mouth away from Elphaba’s neck, which she’s not terribly eager to do, especially because between all the dumb questions Elphaba is letting loose these pretty sighs that simply electrify Galinda. The boat is rocking harder underneath them, and it’s not helping with the dizziness, but Galinda hardly cares. Then:
“Oh, Oz, Galinda.” Elphaba’s voice takes on a new, shocked quality, and Galinda pulls back and opens her eyes to find their little skiff is hovering several feet above the water.
Their eyes meet, and the boat hangs suspended in the air for just a clock tick longer before it comes crashing down again. Galinda screams, tucking her face into Elphaba’s neck and clinging to her for dear life. Elphaba’s arms fly around Galinda to hold her, too.
A huge splash! Galinda’s head thunks uncomfortably against Elphaba’s shoulder. The boat rocks perilously back and forth. Icy cold water splashes on the both of them, puddling in the bottom of the boat, and they both squeal all over again.
“What was that?” Galinda asks, breathless. She reaches down to pluck that wet hat of hers—Elphie’s now, honestly, she can keep it—and place it back on Elphaba’s head. Elphaba pulls a face but lets her do it.
“It must’ve been my magic,” Elphaba tells her, equally out-of-breath. Her hand comes up, adjusts a strand of Galinda’s hair for her, tucking it behind an ear. That little half-smile is back. “Sorry about that.”
“No, it’s—that’s incredible,” Galinda says, and she’s suddenly feeling quite monumentally drunk again. Nausea prods at her, just a touch. She groans and tucks her face back into Elphaba’s neck. “I don’t feel so good.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” Elphaba asks quickly, hands off Galinda just as fast. Galinda lifts her head, pouting.
“Seasick,” she mumbles.
“Oh,” Elphaba says. Then: “Here, sit back down beside me. Facing forward can help with that.”
Galinda groans again, and slips sideways, resting her head on Elphaba’s shoulder. Elphaba goes quiet, remains tense, and Galinda shuts her eyes. Lets the cool breeze caress her cheeks.
They make it almost all the way back to campus before Galinda’s stomach gives a violent lurch out of nowhere.
“Oh, Shiz,” she murmurs, sitting up straight.
“What—?” Elphaba starts, but then Galinda’s throwing the top half of her body over the edge of the boat and puking into the water below. “Oh, Galinda,” she hears Elphaba murmur. Long, cool fingers brush her temples, tug her hair back away from her face. “That’s it, get it out. You’re okay.”
“Elphie, this is dreadful,” Galinda coughs, before starting up all over again. She can hear Elphaba wince behind her, hum a tight agreement. One of Elphaba’s hands rubs firm but gentle circles between her shoulderblades.
She stares at the water for a long tick after she’s done. She feels immediately sober, and cold. The sweat on her face and the back of her neck isn’t helping. Carefully, Elphaba’s hand releases her hair, tucking it over her right shoulder against her neck, and she startles without meaning to.
“Are you okay?” Elphaba asks slowly, helping her sit back up.
“Oh, Elphie,” Galinda whines, and, shaking, tucks her head against Elphaba’s shoulder all over again. “I’m never drinking again. Never ever ever.”
Elphaba clears her throat and nods curtly, navigating the boat towards the university’s docks. She wraps one arm around Galinda and it helps ease her shivers.
Silence stretches between them as Elphaba ties the boat off, helps Galinda back onto solid ground. Galinda still feels a bit wobbly, so she kicks off her heels and lets Elphaba sling an arm around her waist and keep her stable. The cold cobblestones make her toes ache, but Elphaba’s arm around her radiates warmth through the rest of her body.
“You know,” Elphaba says, contemplative, as they walk through the dark courtyard, “no one’s ever kissed me before. That was my first…” She trails off. When Galinda looks, Elphaba is frowning down at the ground.
“Your very first kiss?” Galinda gasps. Elphaba says nothing, but her eyebrows draw together a bit. “Ever?”
“Is it so hard to believe?” Elphaba asks, prickly, and Galinda flinches.
“Well, you’re…” Galinda starts.
“Green,” Elphaba finishes for her, at the same time as Galinda says: “Twenty-one.”
Elphaba glances up, meets Galinda’s eyes for a second, then away again.
“Yes,” Elphaba says, then falls quiet.
Elphaba holds the door open for her once they get to their building, but Galinda pauses right in the doorway, before either of them can walk through.
“I’m sorry I took your first kiss away from you.” Galinda finds she can’t quite look at Elphaba as she makes this apology, has to stare at a point somewhere in the dark past her shoulder. “It was rather thoughtless of me. It won’t happen again. Pinky promise.”
Galinda holds out her pinky, and Elphaba smirks a bit before the small laugh bursts through.
“You didn’t take anything away from me,” Elphaba tells her. “You…” She trails off, gaze casting off to the side, and Galinda’s heart thuds in her chest. She waits. Whatever Elphaba was going to say, though, she must decide against, because she looks back up and squares her shoulders. “You need water, and sleep. And painkillers in the morning, most likely.”
“Oh, definishly,” Galinda agrees, and lets Elphaba haul her back up to their suite.
She should be exhausted, but she finds she can’t remotely sleep. Elphaba seems just as thrillified by their newfound truce. She bounces about their room, and tells Elphaba they must tell each other secrets. For example:
Galinda squeals, “Fiyero and I are going to be married!”
“He asked you already?” Elphaba asks, nervous, and her fingertips drift to her lower lip again.
“Oh,” Galinda says, and realizes all at once: “he doesn’t know yet.”
Elphaba laughs like Galinda’s just made a joke, and Galinda beams.
The pair of them stay up all night, then, swapping secrets and stories and facts and opinions and thoughts and feelings. It’s only as the light of tomorrow begins to peek over the horizon and through their window that Galinda finally crashes in her bed, and Elphaba cuddles down into her own.
When Galinda wakes in the morning, probably only a few hours later, her pulse is pounding in her temples. Her mouth feels like she’s swallowed sand. Nausea presses and squirms about in her stomach, and she has to take several deep breaths through her nose before she can summon the willpower to sit up.
On her bedside table, a still-steaming mug of tea, a glass of cold water with condensation dripping down onto her lovely wooden side table (no coaster), and a handful of painkillers placed atop a little note:
They’re great, in Elphaba’s chicken scrawl, with a lopsided smiley face.
Galinda smiles against her better judgement, and finds that the action makes her face ache. Frowning again eases some of the discomfort, but feels like the wrong reaction to such thoughtfulness from her roommate. Even though she’d forgotten a coaster.
Roommate. Elphie.
The nickname’s stuck in her head. She’s going to have a hard time calling her anything else now, she thinks. She glances around the room, in case she’s missed her somehow, but no, she’s not here. A twinge of disappointment, followed by a crushing wave of doom.
Elphie. Oh, Oz, Elphie. Whom Galinda’d so scandalociously kissed on their way home from the Ozdust last night. Why, oh, why had she done such a thing?
They’re friends now. They are friends now, right? Galinda’s fairly certain she recalls declaring them friends, and Elphaba having no real objections to that. They’d certainly talked like friends all night. And friends, in Galinda’s experience, kiss each other all the time. Cheek kisses, hand kisses—but, oh, Oz, nothing like what Galinda had done. Galinda is simply humilified.
And Fiyero. She’d kissed him, too, last night. In front of everyone she knows, practically! Fiyero, who she’ll be marrying someday. Who she’d abandonated at that party to go make out with Elphaba in the dark. Had she hurt his feelings? What if she’s just ruined everything? What if this was Glinda’s warning? She should have listened!
And, oh, she must be more judicious with her kisses! People are going to start assuming things about her.
Panic rings in her ears. She does so hope she hasn't just ruined her own life entirely.
She tosses the painkillers back and downs the water as quickly as she can manage. It does help with the dryness of her mouth, but she has to take several more deep breaths, because the speed at which she’d swallowed it down hasn’t helped her nausea. She’s not her halest and heartiest self today, but by Lurline, she can still set this all right.
She sips the tea more slowly—it tastes strongly of ginger, and it soothes her stomach—as she goes about getting herself ready for the day. It takes a bit longer than it usually does, but the end result, despite a bit of puffiness in her face, is even better than it usually is.
Fiyero. She’ll talk to him first, then find Elphaba and make sure things are alright with her.
She makes her way to his dormitory, and runs into Pfannee in the lobby of the building. He slides his glasses down, staring down the bridge of his nose at her suggestively.
“Well, well, well,” he drawls, then pauses. “Wait, this isn’t a walk of shame. You just came in.”
“Which floor is Prince Fiyero on?” she asks, practically waving him off.
“Private suite, top floor, end of the hallway, you can’t miss it,” Pfannee says. He grips her shoulder, drops his voice low to whisper, “Good luck.”
It puts a pit in Galinda’s stomach, but she smiles her winningest smile. “You’re a dear,” she tells him, and hustles for the stairs.
She taps her fingertips against her thighs after knocking as she waits for Fiyero to answer the door. Muffled through the thick wood, she can hear him clattering around and cursing, and it makes her smile.
He opens the door, out-of-breath and rumpled.
“Oh,” he says. “Hello.”
“Hello,” Galinda replies, batting her eyelashes up at him. He grins, but bars her from entry with an arm, which makes her pout. “Well, aren’t you going to let me in?”
“I—” he stalls, the tips of his ears a bit pink.
“You haven’t got some other girl in there, have you?” Galinda asks, suddenly nervous, trying to glance around him.
“No, Oz, of course not, it’s just—it’s a bit of a mess,” he admits. “Though you did leave me on my own at the party last night. I was rather worried you’d found some other beau and stolen off into the night with him.”
Galinda flushes, looks away. “Who do you take me for?” she mumbles.
“Don’t be upset, lovely, I just mean any man would be lucky to have you,” Fiyero says, hooking a finger under her chin and tilting her gaze up to meet his again. “I’m very happy you’ve come to see me this morning.” Galinda beams, and Fiyero steps aside. “Do come in, but please excuse the mess.”
The suite looks much like hers and Elphaba’s—same windows, same balcony, same wood paneling, same murals on the walls and ceiling—but there’s only one bed, and a sparse few trunks containing Fiyero’s belongings. Clothes are strewn haphazardly across the floor, a pile of dirty dishes sit on the corner of his dresser ready to be returned to the dining hall, and the desk is so covered in a pile of books, papers, and unopened mail that it’s rather unusable as an actual desk.
“Oh! Wait right there, I’ve got something for you,” Fiyero says, and ducks to fish around under his bed. Galinda taps her fingers against her upper arms, but gasps when Fiyero produces—
“My practice wand!” she gushes, rushing to take it out of his hands. She holds it up to the light, then drops it on his bed to throw her arms around his waist. She stretches up on her tiptoes to give him a brief peck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you for taking care of it for me!”
“You seemed rather preoccupied with that roommate of yours,” Fiyero remarks, and there’s that spike of shame again. Galinda buries her face in his chest and inhales the scent of him: soap and mint and a dash of woody cologne. His hands tangle in her hair, and she squeezes him even tighter, unwilling to look at him. “What’s all this, then?”
“I’m sorry for leaving you last night,” Galinda says. “I was a horrendible date.”
“You were a fabulous date,” Fiyero argues, and at this, she does look up at him. He’s smiling down at her. His hair is just a bit askew from sleep, still, and it’s rather endearing. “You were fun, and funny, and a marvelous dancer. You looked utterly fetching. And you’re a wonderful kisser, to boot.”
“Am I?” Galinda asks, cataloguing the way his eyes flick down to her lips.
“Mhm,” he hums, leaning closer. Galinda’s eyes flutter shut, and she rises up on her tiptoes. Stretches. Waits for him to bridge the distance.
As soon as she can feel his breath against her lips, her eyes come open and she draws back, one hand on his chest. “Fiyero?” she asks.
Fiyero’s eyes startle open. “What is it, dearest?” he asks. Dearest, she thinks, is a rather sweet pet name. She should start using that one, herself.
“Are we…” She starts, then pauses, chewing on her lip. She can feel his heart hammering under her palm. “I mean, am I…?”
“Are we what?” he asks, tugging gently on a golden curl before tucking it behind her ear for her.
“I know we’ve only known each other for a very short amount of time,” she admits, “but is it alright if I were to… are we something to each other? Together?”
His eyes go wide. He blinks a few times. “Oh. It’s rather soon.”
“It’s just,” Galinda says, fingers fiddling with a loose thread on his collar. She thinks of her future engagement. “I like you very much. And I’m afraid I’m not too terribly interested in anyone else. I think we’d be rather perfect together, don’t you?”
“I do,” Fiyero agrees readily, and it makes Galinda smile. She does so like the picture the two of them paint.
“There’s certain things I want to do with you,” Galinda says, “that I only want to do with—well, that is to say, certain things aren’t casual to me, the way they might be for others. And I want you to know that, before we…” She trails off.
“Things like what?” Fiyero says, voice dropping low. “Because I’m imagining certain things…” His eyes grow a shade darker, and Galinda’s face burns.
“Oh, Fiyero, get your mind out of the gutter! Not things like that.” She taps her fingertips against his chest.
“No?” Fiyero asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Well…” She pauses.
She likes him. She’s going to marry him. And she’s never really—well, she has, but not really, and this seems like it would be really—
“Well, there are those things,” she agrees delicately. “But I meant those things and other things. Going on dates. Kissing in front of other people.”
“So, what we did last night?” He’s smiling coyly.
“Yes,” Galinda says. “So…”
“My Lady Galinda Arduenna Upland,” Fiyero says, taking her face between his hands. “It would be my honor and privilege to be more-than-casual with you.” She giggles, and he leans way down to kiss the bridge of her nose. “Might I assume the sentiment is returned?”
“How forward,” Galinda teases. “Yes, you may.”
“And, about those other not-so-casual things people do…” Fiyero prods, and he’s half-kidding, Galinda can tell, but nevertheless, she stills in his arms. Sighs, leans further into him. “Are those things you want to do with me, as well?”
Truth be told, Galinda hadn’t much thought of it, not until he’d brought it up. She’s touched boys, of course, and let boys touch her—done all sorts of touchy things with boys, really—but only a few times, and never just for no reason. Though this, she supposes, isn’t exactly for no reason, either. She’ll be engaged to Fiyero eventually, then married. She likes him, and she wants him to know she likes him. And there’s this strangest, gnawing feeling of guilt in her stomach still, for running off and leaving him last night to kiss her roommate of all people. Even though they hadn’t been officially together in any kind of undefined capacity yet, it had been rather poor form regardless, and she’s certain if he knew she’d been kissing someone else, even another girl, even drunkenly and unseriously, he’d perhaps be rather upset and hurt by it all.
She sighs again. Fiyero’s hand smooths over her hair. She peers up at him.
“I’m not asking for right now, if you don’t want to,” he clarifies, ears and cheeks gone rosy again. “I just want to know if eventually—”
Galinda hops up on her tiptoes, slings her arms around his neck, and steals the rest of his words away with a searing kiss. He hums, broad hands gripping her waist, sliding down to her lower back.
“Yes,” she decides, craning her neck to meet his eyes. “I want those things, too.”
“Yes?” he repeats.
She nods and draws him back in for another kiss by way of answer. Pulls him by the front of his shirt back and back and back towards the bed, and tumbles onto it. Fiyero stands over her, alight with a red flush, looking even more rumpled than he had before. Galinda’s eyes dart down to his hips, and her stomach turns with nerves when she notices, between his legs—
“Are you sure?” Fiyero asks, and her eyes dart back up to his. “This all seems to be happening rather quickly, dear.”
“Do you not—want…?” Galinda asks, suddenly hot with self-consciousness.
“Galinda,” Fiyero laughs. He cups her cheek. “Of course I want. I’m only a man. My question is, do you want?”
He says he’s only a man, but oh, he really is a prince.
“Come here,” she says, and Fiyero falls on top of her.
And she does want him, really, she does. She’s going to marry him, and she reminds herself this over and over again as they strip out of their clothes and kiss on the bed. But sex with him just isn’t what she came here thinking about, and she hasn’t had time to properly plan for it, and she really prefers to have a plan for these things.
She stalls. She gets up twice: once to neatly fold her own clothes, and once to neatly fold his. It makes Fiyero laugh, naked and hard and posed like a statue on his side.
“I’ve never met another girl so preoccupied with clothing while nobody in the room is wearing any,” he teases.
“Linen wrinkles dreadfully if you don’t care for it properly, Fiyero,” she tuts.
The third time she gets up, this time to get them both water (just in case they get thirsty!) Fiyero snags her by the wrist.
“It’s okay if you don’t want this right now,” he tells her, eyes kind and earnest. “It creates a rather small predicament for me, surely, but one I can easily live with for a bit. Or take care of myself.” He’s so thoughtful, and it annoyifies her for some reason. Makes something twist unpleasantly in her gut. She pouts. She’s going to marry him. This is her husband she’s looking at right now.
“Of course I want this,” she assures him.
“Quit running away from me, then,” he teases. “Be here with me.” He tugs her back towards the bed, and she goes, determined to prove herself.
But she feels so novice. His hands on her body make her ticklish; she flinches and giggles and squirms when he palms her breasts, holds her waist, guides her hips. When he touches her, she doesn’t get wet. Even when she tries for herself with her own fingers, his eyes on her are distracting, and the sight of his dick in her periphery; she feels too exposed, too anticipatory, and she can’t get comfortable. She can’t escape the feeling she’s doing something wrong.
She assures him she’s fine, because she is, but it stings just a bit when he presses into her. That point of connection leaves a squirmy, bad feeling in her gut, like when a stranger stands too close to her in a crowd. She wants a bit more space than the act can provide. Oz, if only she’d been more prepared! She keeps her eyes shut. But it’s alright, really, once she gets used to it. Pleasant, even. She feels warm all over; feels a dull and somewhat neutral pressure sitting deep down in her hips. A bit of heat in her belly. It’s not a bad feeling. It’s quite nice. Comforting. A bit like being cuddled, but—well, weirder. Awkwarder. He tries to touch a thumb to her clit, but it’s too much for her, far too much, and she pulls his hand away and threads their fingers together with a long squeeze and a heavy sigh instead.
She makes sure she looks and sounds as pretty as possible—soft whines and delicate poses that she’s practiced by herself, that emphasize her breasts, her collarbones. It goes on and on, and is it meant to take this long? She matches him—when his breathing goes unsteady, so does hers; when he moans softly, so does she.
Fiyero groans brokenly into her ear. When she sighs his name just as brokenly in response, “Yes, Fiyero,” and digs her nails into the back of his neck, he suddenly jerks out of her and spills across her stomach with a series of grunts that make her feel rather nauseated to listen to.
She gasps and cringes, sitting up immediately.
“Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry!” Fiyero pants. His hands search the sheets for something to clean her up with, and when they can’t find anything, he settles for just the corner of a bedsheet. “I should’ve given you some warning, it snuck up on me. Next time I’ll ask where—I’m truly sorry, darling.”
“It’s—it’s fine,” she says. Swallows down the strange and sudden urge to cry. She feels disgusting; she feels humiliated. She was distracted, she should’ve been paying more attention. She should have just let him touch her the way he tried to. She needs to get out of here as quickly as possible and stand in the hottest shower she can tolerate for as long as she can possibly tolerate it.
She’s queasy. Like she’s just been sneezed all over.
“I can—I can help you finish,” he offers, one hand stroking her thigh. She’s mortified. It’s not as though he was too quick, he lasted ages; she was simply taking too long. If she had just let him touch her—
“I am—I mean, I did. Right when you did,” Galinda lies. “Didn’t you notice?” Awkward, tense silence sits between them.
“Would you like to clean up in the ensuite?” he offers, and Galinda bolts for it without another word.
She cleans up, redresses, and kisses him goodbye as quickly as she can manage. She doesn’t forget her practice wand with him this time when she flees the scene. She’s uncomfortably sore between her legs. Other girls she knows have said they relish the soreness afterwards, but she doesn’t think she likes it one bit. She feels bruised and smarting.
On the way out the door, Fiyero snags her around the waist one more time. “Darling, wait a moment.” She startles, tips her head up to look at him.
“Yes?” she asks, and his hands, sweet and soothing, smooth up and down her sides like he’s trying to settle her. Really, it has the opposite effect. She’d rather just go now.
“Did you—? I mean, are you entirely certain that was alright?” he asks. “I couldn’t tell if it was good for you.”
Galinda gives him that one coy, reassuring smile she’s spent hours practicing in the mirror.
“Dearest, it was perfect,” she tells him. It’s only a bit of a lie, because it was fine, wasn’t it? It felt nice to connect with him. He was good at it—it went on for quite a while, so clearly he was doing something right on his end. That’s what everyone’s always told her—a man finishing too quickly is bad, a mark of inexperience. He was perfect. “We’re perfect together, don’t you think?”
He gives her a tight, warm smile that tells her he’s not entirely reassured, and she swears privately to herself that she’ll do better—be better—next time. So they can both be perfect.
“Bye,” she trills, clipped, and tears herself out of his arms.
Crossing campus again, she feels like she’s limping, feels like it’s entirely obvious to everyone who looks at her what she’s just done. For once in her life, she’d rather all the eyes were off her. It’s a relief, she thinks, to finally spot her doorway at the end of the hall, and she runs the rest of the way, even though running indoors is hardly proper.
She makes it back to her room to find Elphaba at her desk, hunched over a book. She looks up when Galinda shuts the door.
“I thought for sure you’d be nursing that hangover all day,” Elphaba tells her. “Where were you? I stepped out to get us breakfast, and by the time I got back, you were gone.”
“I went to go see Fiyero,” Galinda admits, then holds up her practice wand to show Elphaba. “He kept track of this last night for me.”
“Oh,” Elphaba says. Her eyebrows draw together, but her lips tuck away a little smile. “Yes. I’m glad Madame Morrible decided to let you join. It will be fun to have you in the class.” A beat. “How is Fiyero this morning?”
“Fine,” Galinda answers, going for breezy. “He—I mean, that is to say, we—he’s—” she stops short. She’s not sure what exactly she meant to say about him, but the thought is gone. The hint of a smile disappears from the corner of Elphaba’s lips; her lovely green eyes gleam in the light as she steps closer, fixes Galinda with a look of concern.
“Are you okay?” Elphaba asks softly.
Galinda shakes it off, resets. “Perfectly, Elphie, perfectly! Except—oh, I’ve got the rottenest headache. Thank you for the painkillers, by the way, I’m afraid I would still be bedridden without them.”
Elphaba brightens again. “Of course. Anything for a… friend.”
Galinda gives her air kisses on each cheek and begins to complain about that horrendible essay due for Dillamond’s class this week that she has to start as she collapses onto her bed with a flop. Elphaba laughs and scolds her:
“What do you mean you haven’t even started it yet?”
Trying to sleep that evening, Galinda finds her brain all muddled. Visions of her kisses with Fiyero, her kiss with Elphie, sex with Fiyero all dance behind her closed eyelids. Oz, she can’t believe she did all that. And within the space of a day, too. It’s so not her, it feels like it all belongs to someone else. She tosses and turns and cannot get her mind to stop spinning about it.
But it’s Elphaba who breaks the silence of the dark room.
“Galinda?” her voice is soft, gentle—almost a whisper. “Are you still awake?”
Galinda gives it a tick-tock before she opens her eyes and rolls over, clicking on her pink lamp. “What is it, Elphie?”
“Do you—” Elphaba rolls over to face her, too. “How much do you remember of last night? You were drunk, and you—you did some things, and I just wanted to make sure—”
Galinda scrubs a hand over her face. “Yes,” she admits, “I do recall. I’m rather mortified, if I’m being honest.”
“Mortified,” repeats Elphaba, picking at a loose thread on her pillowcase. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Galinda almost laughs. “I’m sorry! You shouldn’t have had to see me like that. I got sick in your boat, it was horrendible.”
“Oh,” Elphaba says, brow knitting. “That was fine, Galinda, it wasn’t my boat. And you managed to get over the edge in time, anyhow. I meant—” She pauses.
“You meant our kiss,” Galinda surmises.
“So you do remember.”
“How could I forget?” Galinda sighs. She’d been floating, literally.
“Are you…” Elphaba’s lips twist to the side, contrite. “Are you upset about it?”
“No,” Galinda says, “we’re friends now, Elphie, I would have told you if I was upset. And besides, it’s what friends do.”
“Is it?” Elphaba asks, sounding a bit distressed and wildly dubious over it.
“Well—we were drunk.” Galinda shrugs. “It’s fine. It happened, but we hardly need to dwell on it. And, anyway, it won’t happen again, now that I’m with Fiyero unofficially officially.”
“Oh.” Elphaba twiddles her thumbs. “Okay, then.”
“Don’t you dare be embarrassed, though. The embarrassment’s all mine. You were so kind, and you took such good care of me, besides. You’re a wonderful friend. Goodnight, Elphie,” Galinda calls with a sweet smile, and clicks off the light.
“Goodnight,” Elphaba echoes. Her mattress springs creak as she rolls over to face the windows.
We hardly need to dwell on it, Galinda had said, but dwell on it now seems to be the only thing Galinda’s mind is capable of. Tongues and teeth. Smeary lip gloss. Liquid heat. Elphaba’s warm hands, squeezing her hips. The tight coil it all left in Galinda’s gut.
“Elphie?” Galinda whispers into the dark room at a turn.
A long beat. Then:
“Yes?”
“Let’s each tell each other something we’ve never told anyone before,” Galinda says. “I’ll go first.”
The springs creak as Elphaba rolls over again. Even in the dark, Galinda can make out her eyes across the room. She takes a deep breath.
“I had sex with Fiyero today,” Galinda admits.
“I figured.” Elphaba fiddles with the edge of her blanket. “Was it—?”
“That’s not the secret,” Galinda interrupts. She plugs on: “The secret is, I don’t think I liked it.”
It’s like the confession sucks all the air out of the room. Galinda doesn’t realize she’s crying until she sniffles loudly, and Elphaba practically panics.
“Hey, hey, don’t cry, Galinda,” she says, crossing the room in three long, sure strides. The moment she sits down at the edge of Galinda’s bed, Galinda throws her arms around her and squeezes. Elphaba doesn’t seem to know what to do, hands hovering. One tentatively, softly, like it’s altogether afraid of contact, comes down to pat Galinda’s shoulder. “Is he—are you alright? Did he hurt you? Did he do something—?”
“No, no, of course not, he’s—” Galinda hiccups. “He’s a prince. He was sweet, and patient, and gentle as he could be. And it’s not that I didn’t like it, really, it’s just—it’s me, Elphie, I’m the one who ruined it, I got it all wrong—”
“No, no, no,” Elphaba whispers fiercely, and all of a sudden she’s holding Galinda for real, with one hand cradling the back of her head and the other squeezing her shoulder. “None of that. Hush. Please don’t cry.”
How is it possible that just a few days ago, they loathed each other? Being held by Elphaba Thropp, Galinda feels as though she’s known and loved her for a lifetime already. She’s never had a friend she liked this much before.
“I’m going to marry him,” Galinda wails. “How can I marry him if I’m bad at having sex with him?”
“You know you don’t have to marry him, right?” Elphaba asks.
“But I’m going to,” Galinda insists with a sniffle.
“Sometimes the first time with someone new is just a bit awkward,” Elphaba assures her, stroking her shoulder frantically. A small beat, then she adds: “So I’m told.”
“Yes,” Galinda agrees. She sits up, but keeps her hands on Elphaba—gripping her forearms. “Yes, perhaps that’s it. First times are just awkward. It’ll be better the next time. I’ll be more prepared.”
“It’ll be okay,” Elphaba assures her. She tsks softly through her teeth, freeing one of her arms so she can wipe Galinda’s tears from her cheeks for her. “This is not worth your tears, Galinda. Things will work out for you. They always do.”
“I’m so tired,” Galinda whines, falling back into Elphaba’s arms. “I barely slept a wink last night, Elphie.”
“And whose fault is that?” Elphaba’s voice is low and warm, and her hands are awkward again, patting Galinda’s shoulders.
“Yours, certainly,” Galinda huffs. “If being friends rather than foes weren’t such a thrillifying development, I would never have had to stay up talking to you until tomorrow came. We should have just been friends from the outset, really, and spared ourselves the trouble.”
“Hm.” Elphaba sounds amused. “But then we would have missed out on all the fun of rearranging the furniture every day and hitting each other with big sticks at the sparring team tryouts.”
“We could still do all that, if you think it’s fun,” Galinda offers, “I could buy us some big sticks to hit each other with,” and Elphaba laughs.
“I’m happy with this,” Elphaba says. “I think I like being your friend.”
It’s the first time she doesn’t hesitate before saying the word friend, and it gives Galinda a little thrill.
“Won’t you just stay here tonight, Elphie?” Galinda asks.
“Here, as in—?”
“My bed,” Galinda insists. She gasps, pulling back from their embrace. “It’ll be just like a slumber party! You’ve never had one of those, right?”
“Never,” Elphaba says, smiling.
“Get in, get in! We’re having a slumber party!” Galinda sing-songs, tugging on Elphaba’s arms, holding back the covers for her. Slowly, Elphaba climbs into bed beside Galinda and lies down on her back, and once she’s there, Galinda cuddles up to her, slinging an arm over Elphaba’s middle. Tentative, staring up at the ceiling, Elphaba rests a hand over Galinda’s forearm. Her thumb strokes softly over the jut of Galinda’s wrist. “Now you tell me a secret,” Galinda whispers, and Elphaba turns her head to face her. They’re sharing a pillow; their noses are barely an inch apart.
“Like what?” she asks.
“Like…” Galinda wracks her brain. “Like, if you could kiss anyone in the world, anyone at all, who would it be?”
Elphaba stares at her for another long moment, something softening in her face. She huffs, adjusts to look back at the ceiling again.
“Avaric Tenmeadows, from our Biological Arts class.”
“Elphaba Thropp, that is not true!” Galinda gasps. “You hate his guts! Every time he opens his mouth, you roll your eyes so hard I’m afraid they’ll get stuck like that.”
“Well, who knows? Maybe all that loathing is actually a secretly disguised passion,” Elphaba deadpans. She squeezes Galinda’s wrist.
“You’re terrible,” Galinda accuses, snuggling closer. “I told you a real secret. I was intensely vulnerable with you. I even cried, and you know I hate to cry in front of others, unless it’s for a really good reason!”
“I’m sorry.” Elphaba’s voice is warm and fond, and Galinda doesn’t even have to look to know she’s holding back a smile the way she always does. “Some secrets are a bit too secret. Ask me something else, and I’ll tell you.”
Galinda almost follows it up with who Elphaba would most like to have sex with, but if she won’t answer the kissing question, Galinda’s certain she won’t answer the sex one, either. Galinda heaves a sigh. Her fingertips trace little spirals against Elphaba’s nightgown.
“Tell me about your mother,” Galinda says softly. “What was she like?”
Elphaba’s body relaxes by a shade. “I barely remember her. I was so young when she died,” Elphaba admits. “But she used to call me her green bean. I think she might have been the only person in my family to have ever really loved me. I wonder all the time what my life would have been like if she hadn’t died.”
Galinda can hardly help it; she presses a soft kiss to Elphaba’s bare shoulder. Elphaba turns to look at her again, but Galinda has no idea what to say to this confession.
“That’s not the secret,” Elphaba says. “The secret is that… Sometimes I—well, I suppose I don’t blame my sister, I don’t think. It’s not quite blame. But sometimes I think: If Nessa hadn’t been born, then I’d know what it’s like to be loved—” Elphie swallows hard, cuts herself off. “It’s a wicked thought, I know, and it isn’t fair—I know Nessa didn’t choose it, and I love her dearly—I can’t imagine my life without her, she’s my sister—it’s not her fault, but…”
“It’s okay, Elphie,” Galinda says. Elphaba clings to her wrist, and Galinda’s fingertips soothe small circles against her ribs. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. It couldn’t have been easy.”
Elphaba’s gone quiet.
“Your sister loves you,” Galinda adds.
“Yes, but she blames me, too,” Elphaba says. “Sometimes, I want to know what it’s like to be loved completely, and not in spite of something.” Galinda squeezes Elphaba, and Elphaba sighs. “I think that’s enough secrets for tonight. You should sleep.”
“What about you?” Galinda asks.
“I should sleep, too,” Elphaba says.
“But you’ll stay?” Galinda pleads. “For the sake of the slumber party?”
Elphaba breathes out a little laugh through her nose. “Alright,” she agrees. “For the sake of the slumber party.”
When Galinda wakes, her bed is empty, and Elphaba is already gone from the room. But she’s picked up the post for both of them and left Galinda’s neatly on her desk, along with a still-steaming cup of tea.
Today will be the first day of Galinda’s inclusion in Morrible’s sorcery seminar, and she must make the best impression she can! She’s determined to prove she’s capable, and she does her best to throw together her most capable-looking outfit.
It’s only once she has herself together that she takes her post out to the balcony to read it. She only has two letters: one from Momsie and Popsicle, sparing no pedantic detail about how dull and boresome their lives are without her there, and the next—well, the next has no return address. It’s tied shut with a pink ribbon and doubly protected by a pearlescent wax seal. She has to use her fingernails to pry it open.
It reads:
Dearest, darlingest young Galinda,
I’m not sure if this will work, but I must try to get the message to you regardless. I’m sure I’ve warned you several times now to stay away from Elphaba Thropp. I rather wish you’d take me more seriously. I am a very serious person. Please do listen to me, dear, as I know a great deal more than you, and I’m doing my utmost to protect you.
Love and kisses,
Your older (but still very young and vibracious and not remotely close to middle age!) self
P.S. Please feel free to keep the ribbon I’ve sent along with this letter, as it would look just splendiferous in your hair
P.P.S. Don’t forget to study! College is important
With nothing better to do with such an annoyifying, patronizing letter, Galinda balls it up, places it neatly in the fireplace, and sets it on fire, ribbon included. She wastes seven matches total, trying to get it to light. At the last second, she regrets burning the ribbon, as Glinda was right: it would have looked splendiferous in her hair.
When Elphaba spots Galinda coming down the hallway to meet her outside Morrible’s office, she beams. Galinda skips to catch up to her and throws herself into Elphaba’s arms.
“Oof! Hi,” Elphie says, petting her hair.
“Hi.” Galinda takes a deep breath, and notices how nice Elphie smells—the sweet scent of her hair oil, the floral hand cream she uses, and something underneath it that’s just Elphie—right as she pulls out of the embrace.
“Are you ready to learn some magic?” Elphaba puts space between them, but links their hands together.
Galinda squeals, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Oh, I was born ready! Thank you, thank you, thank you, Elphie, I can never thank you enough.”
“It was noth—oof!” And then Galinda’s got her wrapped in a hug all over again. Elphaba laughs, pats her back. “Galinda, we’ll be late for class.”
“What’s Madame Morrible going to do?” Galinda says. “Fail us? Kick us out?”
“Galinda.”
“Alright, alright.” Galinda pulls away a second time, but twines her fingers tightly together with Elphie’s. “Can I share a secret with you first, though?”
Elphaba squeezes her hand, eyes sparkling. Galinda takes that as a yes.
“I’m a bit nervous,” she confesses. “I don’t think Madame Morrible likes me very much.”
“She will,” Elphaba says. “Take it from someone who used to—well, not like you very much.” She shrugs as if she’s embarrassed by it; as if Galinda hadn’t earned it. “It becomes very hard to keep not liking you at a certain point. You grow on people. Like a little pink fungus.”
It sends a red-hot flush all the way through Galinda. Her fingers and toes, the tips of her ears tingle with it. She squeezes Elphaba’s hand, and can’t find the words to answer that with. Elphaba giggles at Galinda’s blushy face. “I never thought I’d be called fungus as a compliment,” she finally stammers.
“Come on,” she says, and tugs Galinda through the doors.
The seminar itself is a series of highs and lows. Highs, where Elphaba is concerned—she excels at everything. Galinda takes the lows. She’s rotten. There’s an unpleasant envious irritation coiling inside her every time Elphaba gets it right on the first try while Galinda fails to get it at all; every time Madame Morrible stage whispers, “Well done, dearie,” to Elphaba, then heaves a disappointed sigh in Galinda’s direction.
But then there’s Elphie, gently showing her a better way to hold her wand. Elphie telling her, “It’s your first day, stop being so hard on yourself. I’ve been practicing for months.” Elphie whispering the right answers to her while Morrible drills her on terms she’s never heard before in her life.
Elphie is such a precious darling dear to her. Galinda can’t stop wondering why—why her older self wants this lovely creature out of her life, what the purpose of avoiding her could be. How the presence of Elphaba Thropp could ever be a problem, or her absence could ever be a boon. For all Glinda’s insistent warnings to stay away from her, Glinda has never once told Galinda why.
She determines she’ll ask.
The problem is, she’s got no clue how. Barring that very first time in the woods, every time Glinda has appeared to Galinda or communicated with her, it has been on her terms. Galinda doesn’t quite know how to summon her back.
As class is wrapping up, Galinda tells Elphie, “You go on ahead. I have a few questions for Madame Morrible, but I’ll catch up.”
Elphaba glances quickly between the two of them, then nods.
As soon as Elphie’s out of the room, Galinda tiptoes up behind Morrible, who’s shuffling a stack of papers on her desk. When it’s clear she’s being ignored—“Madame Morrible?”
“I’m very busy, dear,” Morrible says curtly. “If you’d like to discuss something with me outside of our designated class time, you may visit me during my office hours.”
“It’s just one question, Madame, I swear it won’t take long.”
Madame Morrible pretends Galinda hasn’t said anything. Galinda stands, fidgeting, and shifts from foot to foot.
Morrible caves with a heavy sigh, turning to Galinda. “What?”
“It’s—it’s something of a hypothetical, I suppose,” Galinda says, “but if there were a spell that was meant to show you a vision of your future that perhaps, instead, put you in contact with a future version of yourself, and then that future version kept appearing to you at inopportune times—well, how would you get that future version of you to show up when you wanted her to, instead of just when she felt like it?”
Madame Morrible blinks at her. Turns back to her papers.
“That’s a ridiculous hypothetical,” Morrible snipes. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Now, if you don’t mind…”
Galinda slumps, and slinks out of the room.
Elphaba’s waiting by the door. She brightens when Galinda walks out. “Did she answer your question?”
Galinda shakes her head, pouting.
“Well, I know I’m no Morrible, but maybe I can help with it?” Elphie offers, and Galinda gives her a tired, wan little smile.
“That’s okay, Elphie, it was a silly question, anyway.” She loops their arms together. “I heard they’re serving quoxberry pie in the dining hall today. We should try to get there before the brutes at this school devour it all and leave none for us.”
Thank goodness Elphie is a deep sleeper.
Galinda makes sure she’s completely out—poking and prodding and whispering to her and earning only frustrated grunts for it. Once she’s certain, she drops to the floor to rummage under Elphie’s bed.
Sweet Oz, the woman has a lot of books! What she could possibly need all of them for, Galinda’s got no idea. They have identical courseloads—exactly identical, now that Galinda’s in Morrible’s seminar—and Galinda doesn’t have a quarter of the number of books Elphie has stashed just under her bed alone! It takes her a good long while to sift through them, but eventually she finds what she’s looking for, tucked away at the back and bottom of a pile:
The Future and You! A Primer on Prescience, Premonition, and Psychic Powers
Galinda clutches it to her chest and stands.
“Elphie?” she whispers.
Elphie just grunts, unmoving.
“I’m just going to the bathroom,” Galinda says. “In case you get up and I’m gone, that’s where I’ll be, alright?”
Elphaba says nothing, and Galinda exhales sharply and takes the book with her into their suite’s little bathroom, shutting and locking the door.
She clambers into the dry bathtub and thumbs through the pages until she finds the one she’s looking for, then places it on the lip of the tub just beside her. Reads through the spell’s instructions. Reads through them again. Begins.
“Ohs-ten-deh, mi-i, f’tuh-ruhm.” Something changes in the air. Is it working? “Ohs-ten-deh, mi-i, f’tuh-ruhm.” The pipes behind her start to rattle and creak. “Ohs-ten-deh, mi-i, f—!”
She’s knocked back, suddenly, violently, into a vision.
The world is bathed in pink light. Elphie sits in front of her cross-legged on her bed. Galinda smiles at her and sings:
“When-ever I see someone less fortunate than I…”
She swings from the chandelier, prances on the railing of the balcony, drags Elphaba to and fro. Teaches her how to toss her hair just like Galinda does it. Backstrokes across their floor while Elphie stares at the ceiling in a daze.
“La-la, la-la, you’ll be popular!”
Galinda spins, clambers over furniture. Sings and sings and sings. Places a rose in Elphie’s hair. They’re cheek to cheek, looking at themselves in a mirror. Galinda holds Elphaba’s shoulders, and Elphaba hangs onto her hands to keep her there, and Galinda calls Elphie beautiful. Elphie has tears in her eyes, and Galinda is getting ready to kiss them away. Elphie turns towards her, and Galinda’s heart turns over in her chest, because she’s never been more sure a kiss is coming, never been more sure she’s totally, completely, head-over-heels in love—
“Galinda!”
—and Galinda wakes up in the bathtub. She has to blink several times to clear away the haze of the vision. Elphaba is standing over them, and her eyebrows show a mix of irritation and confusion.
“Oh,” Galinda groans, and rubs at the back of her neck. It’s got a dreadful crick in it. She’s sore all over, and that book of Elphie’s has toppled over into her lap. “Ouch!”
“What are you doing in here?” Elphie asks. “And with—” She leans over the bathtub to look. Galinda tries to cover the book with her hands, but to no avail. “—a book on psychic visions? Is there something going on?”
Galinda yawns, stretches. “I could’ve sworn I locked the door.” Tries to rub some of the soreness out of her neck. “Oh, what a ditz I am!” she complains. “Nothing to trouble yourself over, Elphie, I just had a curiosity, and I wanted to catch up a bit before Morrible’s seminar. I didn’t want to disturb you with my lamp again, so I came in here to read, and I must have fallen asleep on accident.”
“By accident,” Elphie corrects absently. There’s no reason she shouldn’t swallow Galinda’s story, but Galinda seals the deal with a sweet, half-dimpled smile anyway, and Elphaba sighs. “Alright, let’s get you up. Give me your hands. One, two, three—!”
A groan, a wince, and a stumble. Elphaba pulls Galinda to her feet and, accidentally, right into her arms.
They’re nose-to-nose. Galinda’s heart thuds. She thinks of their almost-kiss, in her vision. The absolute, bone-deep certainty that she was in love. Galinda’s eyes dart over Elphie’s face, cataloguing every feature: her bright green eyes flecked with gold, her smattering of freckles, her plush lips and round nose, the sharpness of her jawline and her cheekbones.
“How strange,” Galinda murmurs aloud.
“What is?” Elphaba replies, voice pitched low and breathless.
Galinda doesn’t have a ready answer. She slips out of Elphaba’s arms and steps out of the tub, dusting herself off.
“Dillamond’s class,” Galinda sing-songs, all soprano. “We must get ready for Dillamond’s class.”
Still, Elphaba is casting looks at Galinda out of the corner of her eye, even as they head to class and then get settled at their desks. It makes Galinda’s stomach do all sorts of swoopy things, knowing she’s being looked at; makes her heart squeeze. Still, she remains diligent and takes good notes and only doodles a little bit, and it’s a flattering image of herself and Elphie, besides, that makes Elphaba smile when she notices.
Galinda and Fiyero lie curled up on top of her bed together.
They haven’t had sex again since that first time, but cuddling him is just the wonderfullest. She’s eager to do that whenever, and doubly eager that she’s eager for something with him.
“I had the strangest dream the other night,” she says to him.
“Tell me about it.” He strokes her hair, and she sighs.
“I was performing a musical number,” she says, “for Elphie. Swinging from the chandelier, and balancing on the balcony railing, and prancing and dancing my way through the room all while singing my heart out to her. And at the end, I looked into her eyes, and was certain—right down to my bones—that the two of us had just fallen in love and were about to kiss. Isn’t that the oddest thing?”
Fiyero’s hand in Galinda’s hair stills for just a moment before resuming. “Mhm,” he agrees.
“Because, well, obviously the person I’m in the process of falling in love with is you, of course, dearest,” she adds.
“Right,” says Fiyero.
“Not that I’m in love, it would be far too soon for that, I hardly mean to scare you. I just mean—that’s why the dream is so bizarre, you see.” She taps her fingertips against his chest.
“Quite.”
“Elphie has quickly become one of my nearest and dearest friends in all of Oz,” Galinda continues. “She might even be my very best friend. But, oh, can you even imagine? Me and her, together? The way you and I are?”
Fiyero stifles a cough into his fist. A red blush lights up the tips of his ears.
“It would never work,” Galinda sighs, ignoring this. “It’s hardly even worth thinking about.”
“You know, it would be alright if you wanted to…” Fiyero’s hand smooths across her shoulders. “Explore that.”
Galinda scowls. Frowns. Stiffens. “What do you mean by that?” she demands.
“I just meant, if Elphaba is someone who interests you, or strikes your fancy—or someone like her, if you catch my meaning—”
Galinda sits up abruptly. “Are you breaking up with me?” she shrieks. Her eyes pool with tears.
“No, no, dearest, calm down,” Fiyero says.
“But I thought we were perfect together!” Galinda wails. “Do you not think we’re perfect together?”
“Galinda, please—”
“I made all these plans for us!” she frets. “A lifetime of plans!”
“I’m not breaking up with you,” Fiyero assures her, taking her face between his hands.
“Then what did you mean, saying you think I should explore someone else?” Galinda sniffles, pawing at her tears.
“I—” Fiyero starts, then deflates. He rubs his eye. He looks tense, tired all of the sudden. With a sigh: “I suppose I wasn’t thinking when I said it. You know me, dearest.”
“Oh.” Galinda unwinds by a shade. “Well, I only told you because it was such an absurd and strange idea, me with Elphie. You really are the only one I want, Fiyero.”
“I believe you, dearest,” he says, and kisses the top of her head. She pushes him back down to the bed and lies on top of him, the tip of her nose pressed to his.
“Would you like to have sex?” she offers, just to prove it to him. He draws back, searches her eyes like he’s looking for something.
“If you’re sure,” he says.
“Oh, Elphie won’t be back for another hour, she has that study group thingy,” Galinda says. “We’ve got time.”
He looks at her like she should know that wasn’t what he meant, but lets her kiss him and start undressing him anyway.
Glinda doesn’t reappear to Galinda.
Still, her warnings linger.
They linger as Elphaba talks passionately about Animal rights in Oz.
They linger as Elphaba patiently helps Galinda wrap her head around confusifying spellwork for their seminar.
They linger as Elphaba nudges her shoulder against Galinda’s in Dillamond’s class, or taps the side of her foot with her toes under the desk, just to give her one of those tucked-back smiles and pass her a tightly-folded up note before she gets back to being the most studious student in the room.
They crop up in Galinda’s mind as the two of them hold hands on the way to dinner, or cloudgaze in the poppy fields together, or snuggle up in one bed and share one pillow and trade secrets back and forth until they fall asleep.
Glinda’s warnings persist in the book place and their bedroom, in the quad and in town and down by the canals. There is nowhere that Galinda doesn’t feel the weight of Glinda’s warnings, and the burning desire to know why.
Galinda doesn’t think she’s ever loved anyone the way she loves Elphaba, or that she ever will again. Elphaba is the best friend she has ever had.
So Galinda starts looking for flaws. Problems. Cracks in the façade. Reasons.
Elphaba is stubborn, mulish, bullheaded. Once her mind is made up, it’s made up, and there’s no swaying her. She digs in her heels and refuses to listen, the terrible, mean thing.
Elphaba is reactive. She has a temper. She lashes out when she’s angry. Her tantrums sometimes involve a bit of destruction of property, when her magic slips out of her control.
Elphaba is impulsive. She never thinks before she does. She balks at a plan, and always brushes away Galinda’s attempts to make one as frivolous, anxious behavior.
Elphaba is defensive. She assumes the worst in others. Her pride is easily wounded. She’s always prepared for an argument, always looking for one. She’s just awful to try and give a compliment to, really! And Oz forbid you should ever disagree with her.
And despite all of this, Galinda adores her. Not even despite—for all of it. Her stubbornness is the fierce conviction that makes Galinda so proud of her. Her defensiveness is her grounded protectiveness, too, of those people and things she loves. Her impulsivity is her quick, dry wit and her fast, smart brain. And her reactive magic—well, it’s her magic!
The more Galinda knows her, the less Galinda can picture a world—any world—where she finds Elphaba bad. Where Elphaba would hurt her. Especially not willingly. Her Elphie is sweet and gentle and patient with a big, red bleeding heart, and she’d never hurt a thing in this life.
“Elphie?” Galinda says in the quiet of their room one night.
“Hm?” Elphaba mumbles. She’s fast asleep, dead to the world in Galinda’s bed. Her bonnet is a touch askew on her head. It makes Galinda fond.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend quite like you in my entire life,” Galinda confesses. She snuggles in closer, and kisses Elphaba on her shoulder. “I’m so lucky I know you.”
“Hm,” Elphaba hums again, and rolls towards Galinda so that Galinda can wrap her up easier.
Galinda shuts her eyes and resents her older self for whatever she’s done to lose this, or for any other reason she might have to keep Galinda away from this.
Everything changes the day Dr. Dillamond is fired.
The firing itself is as traumatical a thing as Galinda’s ever witnessed. Certainly, she never liked Dr. Dillamond—always dreaded his class, always found herself butting heads, so to speak, with the old Goat—but the way he’s manhandled, dragged screaming out of the classroom… It’s something Galinda will think of for the rest of her life, she’s certain of it.
Elphaba is angry, because of course she’s angry. She simmers beside Galinda with that bouquet of poppies still clutched in her hand as their new professor is introduced. When their professor unveils that poor baby Lion in that horrendible contraption, Elphaba explodes.
“Well, someone’s got to do something!” she shouts, slamming the bouquet down on the tabletop in front of her. Poppy dust goes flying.
Galinda fights to keep her eyes open. It’s rather remarkable, watching the flowers twist through the air like little ballerinas.
The wooziness overtakes her regardless, and she’s out.
She wakes up all alone.
Well, not alone alone. The other students in the class are still there. Their new professor, all sprawled out on the floor.
But Galinda looks to her left and to her right and finds Fiyero and Elphaba gone.
They’ve left her there.
Boq turns and glances at her over his shoulder, giving her a small smile. She gives him a tight one in return and clears her throat, adjusting her jacket.
Is this it? she wonders. Is this what Glinda’s warning was all about?
With a small sniff, she pulls her things together and, still drowsy and with her head aching, stumbles quietly out of the classroom.
She finds Fiyero in the quad and falls right into his arms.
“Oh, there you are, darling! I was so worried about you,” she fusses.
“I’m alright, dearest,” he assures her, “it’s all alright.”
He holds her just the way he always does, but he won’t quite look her in the eye.
She doesn’t find Elphaba again until late into the evening. Her darling roommate skips supper, and is nowhere to be found in the book place or the quad or any of the other spots she likes to be.
She slinks into their room as Galinda is brushing her hair. Galinda jumps to her feet immediately.
“Oh, Elphie!” she cries, and throws her arms around Elphaba.
Elphie takes a moment before holding her back. It’s a loose, uncertain embrace.
“When I woke up, I was all alone, I’d no idea where you’d gone, what had happened, if you were okay—” Galinda babbles.
“Hush.” Elphaba holds her closer with a soft sway. “I’m okay.” After a beat, she pulls back to look Galinda over. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, you gave me such a dreadful fright!” Galinda accuses, sniffling. Elphaba looks worried, but Galinda pulls herself all the way out of her grasp so she might get ahold of herself. “And I’ve had the most annoying headache! But yes, otherwise I suppose I’m okay.”
Elphaba approaches her again, smoothes her hair out of the way to rest a warm palm across Galinda’s forehead. Galinda exhales softly, shutting her eyes. “Does your head still hurt?” Elphaba asks.
“A little,” Galinda sniffs.
“I’m sorry,” Elphaba sighs. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“What even happened?” Galinda asks, brushing Elphaba’s hand off her forehead only to take it. She fiddles with Elphaba’s fingers, running the pad of her thumb over each of her nails.
“I… I got angry.” Elphaba shrugs, glancing down.
Galinda wants to ask what happened with Fiyero, but the question gets lodged in her throat. She swallows, and sighs. “It’s alright. It was all rather angering, wasn’t it? That horrendible contraption, the poor little Lion, Dr. Dillamond…”
Elphaba grimaces. “Yes, it was.”
Galinda hums. “Let’s go to bed, darling, I’d rather like to stop thinking about it.”
Elphaba sighs, shoulders slumping. “Yes, I—of course you would.”
Of course you would. It’s a light blow, but it hits Galinda like a blow nevertheless.
“Shall we have a slumber party tonight?” Galinda proposes tentatively. “You can take the good side of my bed, even, if you’d like.”
“Not tonight, my sweet,” Elphaba says. It’s a second small blow, even though the brand new endearment zips through Galinda hot and bright and softens it. It’s cuter than dearest, although Galinda has no desire to start using it herself. Elphaba fiddles with Galinda’s hair. “I’m sorry, I think I just need a bit of space to think.”
“Oh. Okay,” Galinda murmurs, and Elphaba brushes past her without another look.
Something icy-cold squirms in Galinda’s gut. She swallows again, and pushes it down.
Galinda keeps her eyes on Fiyero and Elphaba after that.
This, she thinks, must be what Glinda meant to warn her about!
Stay away from Elphaba Thropp: your future husband will fall in love with her.
That must be the reason for such a dreadfully long engagement. Thirty, and still only just engaged! It’ll take them ages to work through the problem of his being in love with her very best friend! Oh, what a sorry and terrible situation Galinda has found herself in!
She can hardly blame Fiyero. Elphaba is so intensely lovable. She’s everything, really: smart and sweet and stunning and nice to hold, to touch, to share a bed with. She’d probably be nice to fuck, too, but Galinda doesn’t like dwelling on hypotheticals like that.
And, Galinda thinks, she cannot blame Elphaba for loving Fiyero back. Fiyero is a prince, after all. Galinda loves him for a reason. Why wouldn’t Elphie love him for exactly the same reasons?
Oh, what a mess! What a messy, messy mess!
It’s still a week or so before Galinda actually talks to either of them about it, but she’s up in Morrible’s classroom alone practicing her levitation, getting nowhere, when Elphaba comes in and shrugs off her coat.
“I didn’t expect magic to be so hard,” Galinda complains, offhand.
“Well, maybe it’s harder for you to make magic,” Elphaba counters, still focused on arranging her things, “because things have been kind of easy for you. So you don’t need it.”
Elphaba doesn’t even look at her as she grabs her books and moves to sit down on Morrible’s little settee. It’s another of those strange little comments Elphaba’s been making that sting not enough to incite an argument, but just enough for Galinda to feel. Like tiny papercuts.
But there have been enough of them now, and Galinda finds herself asking—
“Elphie?”
Elphaba doesn’t look up, so Galinda keeps going.
“The other day when everyone fell asleep, when I woke up and the Lion cub was gone—so were you and Fiyero.”
Finally, finally Elphaba looks at her.
“He just helped me rescue the cub,” Elphaba says, then looks back down at what she’s writing.
“Right.” Galinda sets down her practice wand and crosses the room to take a seat beside Elphaba. “But…” She struggles to figure out what she wants to say next. Finally she lands on, “I would’ve helped you.”
Elphaba stiffens, but still won’t look at her.
“If you needed someone,” Galinda urges, “you could’ve picked me.”
A long, quiet clock tick lingers in the interim. Slowly, Elphaba closes her books and sets them aside. She turns to Galinda, contrite green eyes sparkling in the light.
“I’m sorry,” Elphaba says, and Galinda can tell she means it. That she’s been sorry. “It was a mistake.” Elphie takes Galinda’s hand between both of hers and presses it, promising, “I won’t leave you behind again.”
Galinda can’t help the small, satisfied giggle that escapes her. Elphie’s eyes drop to the dimple in her cheek before darting back up to meet Galinda’s. She’s smiling softly, too. Galinda’s heart beats wildly in her chest, and fuzzy warmth pours through her from the crown of her head all the way to the tips of her toes.
Perhaps this is all she needed to set it right. Perhaps it’ll all be okay again, and she can forget Glinda’s warning. Perhaps that’s why Glinda hasn’t reappeared to her again; maybe she’s fixed everything and Glinda is perfectly content with her life now.
They’re interrupted by a shout from outside, down in the courtyard. Madame Morrible:
“Miss Elphaba! Come at once!”
Elphie doesn’t let go of Galinda’s hand as she gets up, pulling her along behind. Galinda’s more than delighted to be swept up in her current.
Out on the balcony, they can spot a strange and magical contraption making its way toward the docks.
“Elphie, you gotta get down there!” Galinda insists, and then she’s the one pulling Elphaba along behind her. “Come on!”
It’s an invitation, of course, from the Wizard himself. The Wizard of Oz!
Galinda’s never felt such prideful proudness for another person, ever in her life! She even shoves down the twinge of envy as Morrible embraces Elphaba and tells her how proud she is, how much she’s always believed in her. And then the rain drives them all inside.
The sun emerges again in a heartbeat as Morrible twists a hand towards the sky and drives the clouds away. When Galinda glances back, Morrible and Elphaba still have their heads bowed together, whispering excitedly. With a pang and a sigh, Galinda trudges back up to the classroom to continue practicing by herself.
The suspicion comes back in spades the next time she and Elphaba and Fiyero grab dinner together. Elphie and Fiyero hardly address one another, but they exchange these little looks that make Galinda—oh, they just make her feel awful! Squirmy and jealous and petty, which is something she has to repeatedly tell herself not to be as dinner wears on. When she brings up that poor little Lion cub again, they both go concerningly quiet and stare down at their food, picking idly.
Galinda has no clue what to make of it.
Weeks pass like this. Galinda offers more sex to Fiyero (she’s getting better at it!), more slumber parties to Elphie (she’s always been good at these). She puts everything she can into being the best girlfriend and the best best friend she can be! If neither of them can find fault with her—if both of them would feel too terrible about hurting her—if she could only just be good enough for the both of them, then maybe, maybe—
But, oh, she just can’t help herself, it seems! Perhaps she’s doomed to be just a touch bad, or at least not good enough, because it’s two days before Elphaba’s set to depart for the Emerald City to meet the Wizard, and they’re both puttering about the room getting ready for the day, and Elphaba says something offhand about Fiyero—something utterly inconsequential, a question like, “Are you planning to see Fiyero at all tomorrow, or will you be free to come into town with me and pick up some last minute supplies?”—and Galinda bursts.
“What in Oz happened out there when you and him rescued that Lion cub?” she demands, hands on her hips. Elphaba freezes in the midst of applying oil to her scalp. “Really, Elphaba, you’ve both been—strange, and different. And nobody’s told me anything, and I just can’t take it anymore!”
“Nobody’s told you anything because there’s nothing to tell,” Elphaba snaps, wheeling on her. “He helped me get the cub to safety. That’s it.”
“But that’s not it,” Galinda whines. “That can’t be it. Because otherwise, why are you both so—so—”
“So what?” Elphaba plants her hands on her hips, eyes narrowing.
“It’s like I’m not even there sometimes, when the three of us are together.” Galinda folds in on herself, crossing her arms tight over her chest, blinking rapidly. She stares at a knot in the hardwood floor. “You two hardly even speak to each other, you barely know each other, and it’s still like you both wish I weren’t there. Something happened to you both, I know it, and I do so hate being played for a fool.”
“Galinda.” The fight drops out of Elphie’s voice. “Hey, Galinda, look at me.” Galinda can’t bring herself to do it. “Please, I need to know you’re listening.”
Galinda does, tentatively, lift her eyes. She meets Elphie’s gaze through her lashes.
“My sweet,” Elphaba tells her, prying one of her hands off her arms and massaging her palm. The eye contact she makes is unflinching. “Nothing happened. I swear it on my mother’s grave.” Elphaba’s brow furrows. “You know I would tell you if something had. I tell you everything.”
Not everything, Galinda thinks. You never told me who you’d kiss.
Some secrets are too secret, Elphaba had said.
“I need you to show me,” Galinda insists.
“Show you?”
“Take me there,” Galinda says. “Walk me through—where you went, what you did. Please, I just—I just need to see it, to know—”
“That will help?” Elphaba interrupts, ducking her head to better meet Galinda’s eyes. “That will take these horrendible worries out of your head?”
Galinda nods. Elphaba sighs, drops her hand.
“Alright,” Elphaba agrees. She glances over Galinda. “But you’ll have to change into something you can ride a bike in.”
Galinda wears trousers so rarely, but she changes into a pair of soft white slacks and a blush pink blouse with a bow at the collar. As they head out the door, she notices Elphaba steal several glances.
“What?” she asks. “Oh, do I have something in my teeth?”
“No, I’ve just—” Elphaba clears her throat. “I’ve just never seen you wear anything like that.”
“Oh.” Galinda smooths down the front of her blouse, brushes imaginary dirt from her slacks. “I don’t look terribly ridiculous, do I?”
“No.” Elphaba’s smile is warm. “You look very nice, Galinda.”
Curse Galinda’s blushy cheeks. She’s certain the tips of her ears have gone electric pink, too, but luckily her hair hides all that.
“Well then,” Galinda says. “In that case, we’d best be off.”
The sky is deep gray and overcast; the air is cool and crisp. One of those damp spring days where everything feels a bit heavy. They walk arm-in-arm to the gate that leads off Shiz University grounds, into the woods. Ducking into a little shack along the road, Elphaba rents the pair of them bicycles. Galinda holds the handlebars of hers gingerly, pulling a face.
“You do know how to ride a bike, don’t you?” Elphie teases.
“Of course I do.” Galinda pouts. “You think so little of me, Elphie, really—it’s all rather insultifying.”
And yes, she does know how to ride a bicycle, of course, but she’s not particularly skilled at it. Her shoes aren’t great for it, besides. Her bike rattles and wobbles, and she screeches more often than not. Potholes and mud puddles have her staining the hem of her lovely white slacks, and by the time Elphaba pulls them over to the side of the road, Galinda finds herself in quite the foul mood.
“What now?” Galinda asks, crossing her arms. Elphaba gives her a level look.
“Are you sure you want to keep going?” she asks.
“I said to take me, didn’t I?” Galinda asks.
Elphaba looks her up and down. “Right. So now we hike—”
“Hike?” Galinda shrills. “In these shoes?”
“We can go back to campus,” Elphaba offers. “I told you to wear something practical.”
Well, she wore pants, didn’t she? With a growl of frustration, Galinda pushes past her to trudge through the mud and brush. Elphaba snags her hand quickly, tilting her head.
“This way,” she says. Galinda nods, and wrests her hand out of Elphaba’s.
It’s slow going. Galinda’s shoes keep catching in the mud. Her loose slacks keep tangling against thorns and bushes. The trail is hard to find in some spots.
Elphaba jogs ahead, clambers partway up the trunk of a tree, over its roots, and turns to look down at Galinda.
“This was right about where we were when the cub started to wake up,” Elphaba explains to her. “I was standing roughly where you are. Fiyero was up here with the cub in his arms, trying to decide what direction we should go.”
Galinda tries to envision it.
“The cub scratched him when it woke up, and he fell flat on his ass, it was a little funny,” Elphaba adds, smirking a bit. Galinda almost snickers, than catches herself. Frowns. “We, um, we argued a bit, I suppose.”
“About what?” Galinda presses. She’s wringing her hands again. She finds she can’t help it.
“He was holding the cub all wrong,” Elphaba says. “Making him uncomfortable. I had to show him how to do it properly.”
“Hm.” Galinda can picture it: Elphaba’s elegant hands, touching Fiyero’s; touching his arms, his shoulders. Her stomach swims. “What next?”
“We went this way,” Elphaba says, reaching for her hand again. When Galinda doesn’t take it right away, she wiggles her fingers. Still, no dice—Galinda crosses her arms tight across her chest. Elphaba sighs and drops her hand. “Follow me.”
They trudge a bit further through the forest. Under the overcast sky, the trees that are normally so beautiful look foreboding and twisted. Shadows pool in the crevices; crawl out from roots. Galinda shivers.
Elphaba stops them again by the side of a small pool.
“We stopped here to let the Lion cub drink a bit of water.” Elphaba gestures to the pool. There’s a flash of a look on her face, there and gone, and she glances away from Galinda. “We argued again.”
“Did you?” Galinda asks.
“Yes.”
“Is that all?” Galinda presses.
“What else would there be?” Oh, and she’s getting defensive now, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes and flaring her nostrils.
“Well, that would be why I’m asking, isn’t it?” Galinda huffs.
“Yes, that’s all,” Elphaba says, turning away. “We argued, and then we went our separate ways. He took the cub to safety on his own, and I went back to campus. That was it.”
Galinda turns the story over in her mind. There’s something wrong with it, she thinks. Something missing—
“You’re lying to me,” she decides, soft and quiet.
“Galinda,” Elphaba groans in frustration. Galinda lifts her eyes to Elphaba’s, pointing a finger in her face.
“No, you’re lying,” Galinda says, tears gathering in her eyes. “He—he came back to campus first, I saw him at dusk, but you didn’t come home until after nightfall. So that isn’t true.”
“What do you think happened out here?” Elphaba paces away, then back towards her. “What is this really about?”
“He’s in love with you!” Galinda shouts, and Elphaba takes a step back, struck. Galinda takes a deep breath, about to elaborate, when—
“Galinda, enough, no he isn’t,” Elphaba says brusquely. “You’re being dramatical.”
“Yes,” Galinda insists, “he is.” Tears fill her eyes. “I can’t even blame him. Who wouldn’t be in love with you?”
“Plenty of people,” Elphaba mutters darkly, suddenly fixated on her nails.
“And you love him, too,” Galinda finishes. Elphaba’s gaze snaps up.
“I most certainly do not.” Her voice is low, wounded. “That you could even think that—” Galinda covers her mouth against a sob, before muttering through her fingers.
“But you wouldn’t tell me who you wanted to kiss.” She squeezes her eyes shut, finding she can’t stand to look at Elphaba’s face any longer. Hot tears burn tracks down her cheeks.
“Not because I wanted to kiss him!” Elphie argues.
A thunderclap booms overhead. The sky opens up. Icy, torrential downpour. Both girls shriek.
“This way!” Elphaba says, grabbing Galinda’s hand, and this time, Galinda lets her hold it. Slipping and tripping, Galinda’s heels keep sticking in the muck. At a certain point, Elphaba stops her and rips the shoes off her feet, offering her own boots to her.
“What?” Galinda demands.
“I’ll be fine, just take them!” Elphaba says, and helps Galinda step into them before they’re off running again.
A ramshackle little shack appears between the trees, and Elphaba holds the door open for Galinda while she bolts inside.
“Oh, yuck,” Galinda complains, dumping her ruined heels by the door and pulling off Elphaba’s completely muddified boots, too. She wipes her hands on her slacks, then whines in complaint when she realizes she’s left more huge mud streaks on the nice white fabric. They’re ruined, she laments.
“Here,” Elphaba says, handing her a towel from Oz knows where. Still, Galinda wipes her hands off on one half of it, and uses the other half to wring out her drenched hair.
“Oh, Elphie, your poor feet!” Galinda fusses. Elphaba laughs slightly through her nose, and peels the dirty, mud-caked wet socks off. She wiggles her green toes against the wooden floor.
“See? I told you I’d be fine,” she says. “I’m going to try to get a fire started so we can dry off.”
Galinda nods, wrapping the towel around her shoulders. She trails after Elphaba.
“What is this place?” she wonders aloud.
“I found it after Fiyero and I went our separate ways,” Elphaba explains, taking her glasses off to dry and setting them on a low table. “He’d taken the Lion cub off to Oz-knows-where, but I figured I’d wander around, see if I couldn’t find someone who could help us, just in case he couldn’t find a safe place for the cub to go. I didn’t exactly trust him with it. Anyway, whoever this place belonged to, they’re gone now.”
“Oh.”
Elphaba gets the fire to start easily. Good thing, too, because Galinda’s starting to shiver.
“Come here, let’s get you warm,” Elphaba says. Galinda sits down on the floor beside her, sniffling, and rests her wet head on Elphaba’s shoulder. She sighs heavily, and Elphaba wraps an arm around her waist.
A long beat. The snap of the fire is soothing; the tap of the rain against the windows.
“Fiyero and I did have a moment,” Elphaba confesses.
“Oh,” is all Galinda can think to say. “A moment?”
“Yes.” Elphaba’s hand tightens against her side. “But that was all it was.”
“A moment?” Galinda repeats.
“Where we looked at each other a bit too long,” Elphaba says, “and it felt… Well. I won’t get into it. But it passed. And it won’t happen again. He’s a lovely man, and I do find him handsome, and he could become a good friend someday, maybe, but I don’t care for him like that. I swear, Galinda, if it was anything worth telling, I would have told you.”
“Oh.” Galinda bites her lip against the twist in her gut.
Fire and rain and Elphaba’s body heat. Galinda shuts her eyes for a moment, an extended blink.
“Are we okay?” Elphaba murmurs. Galinda shrugs. “Do you believe me? Can you—can you please tell me what’s going on?”
Galinda bites a lip. “I don’t know, Elphaba.”
“You don’t know?” Elphaba asks, and all Galinda can do is sigh again.
The fire still crackles at their feet. Rain pounds relentlessly on the rooftop. Her wet clothes cling to her, and Elphaba is warm at her side. She’s present in the present.
“I’m going to marry Fiyero,” Galinda says quietly.
“So you’ve said.” Elphaba gives her a little squeeze.
“Hm.” Galinda hums. She stares at the fire long enough that when she blinks, she can still see it behind her eyelids. She leaves her eyes closed for another moment. “I thought I was going to marry Fiyero,” Galinda amends. “I thought that was what I wanted.”
“Okay?” Elphaba asks. “So, then, what—?”
“Shh, just let me talk,” Galinda demands with her eyes still closed.
“I’m listening,” Elphaba says softly. Her fingers curl in the wet fabric of Galinda’s blouse, grounding.
“I thought I was going to marry Fiyero until I kissed someone else, and I liked kissing them more. Much more,” Galinda explains. The fire gives a little pop, and she opens her eyes again. “But you must understand, they’re not the type of person I ever saw myself being with, we would not be perfect together, and, oh, I have this… this friend, you see, and she told me—she told me in no uncertain terms to stay away from this person, which is a rather unfair demand to make, considering this person is—well, rather unavoidable, let’s say.”
“Oh,” says Elphaba. Quiet sits between them for a good long clock tick. “Did this friend tell you why?”
Galinda lifts her head from Elphaba’s shoulder to turn and look at her. She shakes her head no. “Not a thing.”
“Hm.” Elphaba glances away, at her own knees, at her hands. “Maybe it’s because—” she starts.
“It’s not,” Galinda cuts her off. “Whatever you were thinking, it’s not—that. Not because this person I kissed is, you know, different. It’s another thing.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Just trust me on this, Elphie,” Galinda says. “That’s not the reason.”
“Okay,” Elphaba decides. “I’m trusting you.” Quiet, again. “So why do you think this friend, then—why do you think she told you to stay away?”
“Because she’s a horrendible stick-in-the-mud and she thinks she knows more than me,” Galinda huffs, pouting.
“Then why on earth are you listening to what she has to say?” Elphaba laughs.
“Because she does know more than me,” Galinda complains, “and I’m meant to listen to her, and care about her, and take her advice and all that.”
“I see.” Elphaba picks at a wet thread on her skort.
Galinda takes a small breath. In a soft voice, almost a whisper, she confesses: “I don’t think I’ve ever liked anybody as much as I like you, Elphie.”
Elphaba looks up, her eyes wide and green and startled. “That’s kind of a sweeping statement.”
“I do mean it, though.” Galinda twists her fingers together in her lap.
“Anybody?” Elphaba prods. “Not even Fiyero? The man you’re going to marry?”
Galinda shakes her head furiously. “Thought I was going to marry. And not even close.”
“Galinda, I—” Elphaba starts. “I don’t know what to say.”
“If you’re in love with Fiyero, please tell me now and put me out of my misery before I make even more of a fool out of myself, because—”
Elphaba’s hand cups her cheek, and she shuts Galinda up with a kiss. Her fingers are trembling, her movements are stiff and awkward, but, oh, Oz, she’s kissing Galinda! She’s kissing Galinda, and not the other way around. Galinda feels like she’s floating.
Elphie breaks the kiss after just a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever liked anybody as much as I like you, either,” she says.
Galinda slings her arms around Elphaba’s neck and crawls into her lap. She reattaches their lips with a small hum.
Elphaba’s hands are still tentative, but they do land on her waist. Galinda takes them and moves them up to cup her breasts, and Elphaba gasps in surprise. Heat moves through her, delirious and all-consuming as the last time she and Elphaba kissed, and she rocks her hips in Elphaba’s lap. The grind is delicious. She lets out a small moan, and Elphaba breaks the kiss again.
“Are you okay?” she asks, tucking a wet strand of hair back.
“Yes, I—” Galinda takes a deep breath. It dawns on her quite suddenly: We’re going to have sex. “I’m afraid I’ve never done something like this with a girl before.”
“Something like—” Galinda squeezes Elphie’s hands, prompting Elphie to squeeze her breasts. “Oh.” Elphaba blinks, startled all over again. “Would you…” A deep, dark green flush is creeping its way up her neck, turning her ears to dark jade. “Would you like to do this with a girl?”
Galinda palms Elphaba’s cheek, mesmerized by the little sweep of freckles there. “Only if the girl would like to do this with me, of course,” Galinda says, swallowing. Bracing, a bit, for the sting of rejection. Because Elphaba’s not—she might not want—
She doesn’t say no. “I’ve never had sex with anyone before,” Elphaba says softly instead.
Galinda knows this. “I can show you,” Galinda offers, quiet and reverent. She kisses Elphaba’s cheekbone. “I’ll be good.” Kisses her other cheekbone, to make it even. “I promise.”
“I don’t doubt that you’re good.” Elphaba’s hands come up to cradle the sides of Galinda’s neck. She gives her a slow, lingering kiss, and pulls back again. Her eyes dart back and forth between Galinda’s, like she’s reading something in them. “You can show me,” she finally agrees, offering herself up. Something liquid and hot stirs low in Galinda’s core.
Galinda starts slow. Languid, luxurious kisses. Her tongue sliding against Elphaba’s. She draws Elphaba’s fingers to the bow at her neck and unties it with her, then guides those fingers to slowly undo the buttons down the front of her shirt. Her heart bangs against her ribcage. Elphaba’s hands are so beautiful; her nails brush against Galinda’s skin incidentally each time she gets a button undone and parts the fabric a little more, sending little sparks and embers fluttering through Galinda’s stomach. Elphaba untucks the wet shirt from the waistband of her slacks, and Galinda shucks the thing to the side. It lands on the floor with a wet thump.
Elphie’s nails trace up Galinda’s ribcage, slow and unsure. She leaves trails of goosebumps in her wake. Galinda rolls her hips; finds herself struggling to breathe.
“Elphie,” she whimpers, her lips still against Elphaba’s.
Elphaba’s mouth leaves hers. “Tell me what to do,” Elphie says, before putting her lips to Galinda’s neck just as Galinda had done the first time they kissed. Galinda gasps, noisy, and clutches the back of Elphaba’s head.
She realizes all at once, when she shifts, that she’s rather obscenely wet.
“Keep doing that,” she says, and Elphaba experimentally takes a small amount of Galinda’s skin between her teeth, right over her pulse. Galinda whines, grinds. “Take this off of me,” she says, already reaching behind herself to unhook her damp bralette. She guides Elphie’s hands to her breasts again, guides her fingers and thumbs to her nipples, already stiff and sensitive from the cold and the wet. “Here,” she says. Elphaba’s teeth pinch harder, and Galinda winces with a shudder.
Elphaba draws back, brow furrowed. “Was that okay?”
“I told you to keep doing that,” Galinda fusses, trying to catch her breath. Elphaba’s hands on her chest haven’t done much of anything but linger there.
Elphaba’s eyes dart down to the spot she’d been focused on, on Galinda’s neck. A small laugh escapes her, and her hands come up, thumb stroking over the sensitive, smarting skin. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“I don’t mind,” Galinda says. Galinda guides Elphaba’s hands back again, prompting her to pinch and roll her nipples, and she chokes out a short breath at just how good it feels. It’s never felt like this before—always squirmy and ticklish and odd, when it was someone else’s hands.
Elphaba really is magic, isn’t she?
But she still looks a bit lost. Her face darkens in a deep green blush when she looks at her own hands on Galinda’s body. She hasn’t done a single thing so far without Galinda’s express guidance.
“Do you want me to show you, first?” Galinda offers, struggling for breath.
Elphaba just looks up at her, eyes so wonderfully green. Galinda leans in for another slow, simmering kiss. Her teeth drag Elphaba’s lower lip with them a bit as she pulls away.
“Alright, then,” Galinda decides, as if she’s got any clue what she’s doing, either.
Her hands slowly push Elphaba’s jacket off her shoulders, down her arms. Elphaba draws in a sharp breath and holds it as Galinda’s fingers move for the buttons of her blouse, and Galinda pauses. After a brief moment, Elphaba exhales, nods, and Galinda resumes.
Elphaba’s wet shirt joins Galinda’s on the floor, a heap of white and pink. Elphaba’s sensible bra comes off next, and then Galinda’s nudging Elphaba to lie down on her back on the floor. Her fingertips skate down the sharp line of Elphie’s jaw.
“So beautiful,” she admires. Elphaba shuts her eyes, turns her face away, but crucially doesn’t argue. Galinda presses a kiss to the corner of her lips.
She unzips Elphaba’s ridiculous black skort, and that and the black leggings underneath it, too, join the pile of wet clothes on the floor, leaving Elphaba in just a pair of surprisingly cute panties. Lace at the waist, and a little bow.
That little bow—it makes Galinda so overwhelmingly fond.
Elphaba is a vision. Strong and solid and slim. Just as petite as Galinda is, certainly, but with an entirely different shape and quality to her. She has muscles and broadness where Galinda does not, and an endless expanse of lovely viridian skin, and slightly more to brag about where her breasts are concerned (if she were the bragging type). Her chest and shoulders are sprinkled with the same light smattering of freckles as her nose and cheeks. Her nipples, hard and pebbled, are a darker, deeper green than the rest of her, almost like her lips.
Galinda leans down and presses a sure kiss to the center of Elphaba’s chest, right over her breastbone. “My Elphie,” she murmurs, and Elphaba sighs noisily through her nose.
Galinda licks and kisses her way up and down Elphie’s neck; across her collarbones, the hollow of her throat. She tastes like rain and, underneath that, the salt of skin and sweat. Elphie whimpers softly in the back of her throat as Galinda works her way down. Her noises are small and quiet and choked off, like she’s trying her very hardest not to make them, and something about that electrifies Galinda. She lathes a tongue over Elphaba’s left nipple, and Elphaba hisses through her teeth. Her hands fly up to cradle the back of Galinda’s head.
That’s it, Galinda thinks, as she takes the nipple into her mouth, moaning around it. Elphaba whimpers softly, biting her lip.
Galinda bites down, and finally Elphie keens aloud, fingers tightening in Galinda’s hair. Her hips roll up against Galinda’s stomach.
Galinda switches her attention to the other breast. Her hand trails down Elphaba’s stomach, neatly manicured nails leaving dark scrapes behind. Elphaba squirms and gasps. Galinda applies teeth again, and gets another plaintive whine out of her Elphie.
Down, down she goes, leaving love bites the whole way because she just adores the way Elphie sounds when she does. She gets to the apex of Elphaba’s legs and bites the top of Elphaba’s thigh.
Elphaba’s legs snap shut. Galinda barely has time to get out of the way.
Elphaba’s chest is heaving. She already looks wrecked.
“Are you alright?” Galinda asks. Elphie takes a deep, steadying breath and nods, looking down at her. One hand reaches out, cradles Galinda’s jaw, her chin.
“Sorry,” Elphaba says, legs falling open again. “That was… Overwhelming.”
“Would you like me to continue?” She blinks at Elphaba. Elphaba takes a beat to collect herself. Her hips shift. She nods.
“Please.”
Galinda’s fingers hook under the waistband of those cute panties of Elphaba’s. Elphaba shuts her eyes like she’s bracing herself as Galinda peels the fabric away and finally reveals all of Elphie.
Purplish-pink peeks out from emerald skin and jet-black curls. Like a flower nestled amidst the greenery. Pink, the same way her tongue is pink. Galinda is struck dumb, once again, by how beautiful she is. How good pink and green look together.
Galinda’s lips find the inside of Elphaba’s knee, gentler now, no more biting, then up, up, up the inside of her thighs. The smell of her is heady and musky-sweet.
Fiyero has done this for Galinda before a few times, an effort to help her relax and loosen up. It’s always felt nice—nicer than having him inside, anyway, even though she’s sure she’s liked that well enough too. She tries to recall what exactly he does, then tries to shove him out of her head entirely. She only wants to get it right for Elphie.
Galinda kisses Elphaba right at the juncture where her thigh meets her hip, on the inside. A bit of Elphaba’s wetness brushes her lips, and Elphaba grunts inelegantly and twitches. Galinda soothes one hand over her torso, pinning her steady. Her other hand finds Elphie’s, tangling their fingers together at her side. Elphaba tastes like saltwater here.
“Spread your legs a bit more for me, darling,” Galinda asks. Elphaba obliges. Galinda doesn’t miss the deepening flush that erupts over Elphaba’s chest and face at darling. “Very good, thank you.”
Her tongue dips between Elphaba’s folds and licks up past her clit. Elphaba makes a desperate groaning sound. Her nails dig into the back of Galinda’s hand, and the sole of her foot settles on the top of Galinda’s back. Galinda feels the wetness pooling between her own thighs, at that. She licks over Elphaba again and again, feeling Elphaba writhe and roll under her.
“Galinda,” Elphaba says. “Galinda, it’s—it’s too much, it’s—“
“Too much?” Galinda lifts her head away, brows quirked in concern. Elphaba moans, mournful, with her eyes squeezed shut.
“Yes,” she pants, “yes, but—“ Her hand squeezes Galinda’s again; her other one covers half her face like she’s feeling faint. “Please, please keep going, oh.”
“Tell me if you need me to stop.” Galinda hadn’t thought it needed saying, but she supposes it’s worth the reminder. Elphaba nods, then shakes her head.
“Please don’t stop,” she whimpers. “Please—oh, Oz, yes!”
Galinda’s lips zero in on Elphaba’s clit, encircling it gently. Elphaba starts to tremor and keen as Galinda flicks her tongue over it over and over, legs shaking on either side of Galinda’s ears. Her foot on Galinda’s back presses in more firmly, toes curling, like she’s trying to pin Galinda in place that way. Her hand gripping Galinda’s digs her nails in hard enough that Galinda wonders if she’ll draw blood; her other hand grips her own breast. Galinda feels airless, lightheaded, searingly hot. Like she could just evaporate.
“Galinda,” Elphaba moans. “My sweet, my Galinda, please, please—“ She pants, trembles, wails. Her hips rut up, messy, against Galinda’s mouth. Her words disappear, subsumed by breathless gasps. Oz, she must be close, Galinda thinks.
She’s never seen a woman come before.
When Elphaba does, it’s a spectacle. She cries out, back bowing. Her heel digs into Galinda’s spine.
All the little knick-knacks in the cabin shoot up into the air and pin themselves to the ceiling. Every door and drawer in the cabin slams open at once. The fire in the fireplace becomes a roaring column of flame, shooting heat up Galinda’s back.
Elphaba comes back down shivering and moaning. The fire shrinks back to its appropriate size. Small inanimate objects start raining down around them. Elphaba loosens her vice grip on Galinda’s hand, combs her nails through Galinda’s hair. Galinda keeps going, keeps going, just to feel Elphaba shake harder, just to see how far she can push her. Galinda can hardly breathe.
“Ugh. Too much,” Elphie groans, twitching away from Galinda’s insistent mouth. Her foot nudges at Galinda’s shoulder, her hand shoves the top of her head, her thighs attempt to close. “Oz, Galinda, that’s—ah—enough. Stop.”
Galinda pulls back blinking, dazed. She feels dizzy. She feels drunk. Her lips are hot and prickling, her jaw achy, the smell and taste of Elphaba is all she can focus on. Well, that and the sight of her face—the ruined, astonished way she’s looking at Galinda. Galinda clenches her thighs; she’s never been so wet in her life.
“Come here,” Elphaba breathes, and Galinda crawls up her body. Elphaba pulls her in for a kiss, then grimaces, laughs, pulls back. Her nose wrinkles; she licks her lips. “Sorry,” Elphaba murmurs. “Didn’t expect that.” And she pulls Galinda back in for another kiss.
Galinda feels hot, airy. Detached from her sanity. Her face burns with heat. She’s liquid between her legs, messy wet. Her blood is rushing so fast in her veins, she’s afraid it may burst free. She’s not even a mind anymore, she’s just a body. Just want and sensation. She’s never felt this way before, ever in her life. Elphie rolls them over, and Galinda whines against Elphaba’s lips, clutching her back, her shoulders.
“Sweet girl,” Elphaba says.
She feels incoherent, but still Galinda somehow manages to ask, “Was it good, Elphie? Was I—? Did I do it right?”
Elphaba silences her with another kiss. Galinda loses herself in it, even though it only lasts for a moment. Elphie strokes Galinda’s hair out of her face. “You’re perfect,” Elphaba tells her, and Galinda shuts her eyes to bask in the bolt of warmth the compliment sends through her. Elphaba palms her breasts, rolling her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers. It’s like Galinda showing her the way has given her everything she needs to understand the process, though, in fairness, she’s always been a quick study. “Do you want me to—?” Galinda opens her eyes again, and Elphaba is nosing down her chest, dropping kisses. She has her hands on the button of Galinda’s trousers.
Right. Galinda still has her stupid, rain-drenched, muddified slacks on. She’d forgotten. Galinda nods. Elphaba undoes the button and the zipper for her, helps her slip them off, leaving Galinda in just her most basic pair of off-white cotton undies.
Elphaba freezes, falters. Her confidence visibly dips for a moment. Galinda looks down at herself and—Oz, she’s made a mess. Wetness soaking through her panties with all the subtlety of a fire alarm, spilling over, coating the inside of her upper thighs. For a moment, she almost feels embarrassed about it—it’s too much, it’s unbecoming, she should’ve worn something sexier because a girl should always be prepared—but Elphaba pulls her in for a soft kiss before she can get there.
“You’re perfect,” Elphaba tells her again, and, yes, Galinda’s always thought so, but something about hearing it from Elphaba puts a strange lump in her throat. Elphaba noses at her cheek. “You’re so beautiful.” She kisses Galinda’s ear. “You’re so good.”
Galinda bites her lip and whines. Elphaba starts to kiss her way down Galinda’s body, but Galinda stops her, digging nails into her shoulders and begging, “Wait, wait! Come back!”
“What? What is it?” Elphaba returns, a small knot of concern in her brow. Galinda smooths a thumb over it, easing the tension there, and sighs.
“I just—I want you here,” Galinda confesses. Because it’s hard for Galinda to get there, and it’s underwhelming when she does, and she’s never felt like this before but what she wants more than anything is to be kissing Elphie. That’s what she knows feels good.
“I’m here,” Elphaba assures her, kissing the hinge of her jaw. “I’m here, sweetheart.”
Fingers slip under the elastic of Galinda’s panties, slide through the absurd, slick situation she’s created somehow. The faint scrape of Elphie’s nails—unintentional—makes Galinda jolt, and when the pads of Elphaba’s fingers brush past her clit, frictionless in the wet—
“Oh—Elphie!” Galinda gasps, clutches at her shoulders.
“Is that it?” Elphaba asks. “Does it feel good there?”
Galinda nods furiously, breath gone ragged, as Elphaba starts to move her fingers back and forth, up and down, in circles. She gets a good rhythm going, pointer and middle finger on either side of her clit, pinching a bit as they slide. Galinda tries to say something, but she’s pretty sure all she manages is, “G—uh.”
There is something white-hot, right down in her hips, at the base of her spine, burning up through the middle of her body. There’s no gravity anymore—she feels like she’s spinning through space. Her hands scramble at Elphie’s skin, looking for something to ground herself on. Elphie’s leaving wet kisses along the column of her throat, and Galinda writhes.
“Is that good, honey?” Elphaba checks again, breath hot and damp against her ear.
Galinda wants to say more, but the best she can manage is a tremulous, reedy, “Yes—yes!”
“You look perfect like this,” Elphaba tells her, and a sharp pulse of heat spikes through Galinda. She whimpers. Elphaba kisses under her jaw. “My pretty,” she whispers against Galinda’s skin. Another hot pulse, this time deeper, intenser. Galinda whines. Elphaba scrapes her teeth against Galinda’s pulse point. “My sweet.” Scalding pressure builds, climbs. She’s hovering on the precipice of something entirely brand-new. Every exhale is a moan, a keen, a sob. Every thought is gone. She’s never felt so utterly perfect before. So tight and ready to snap.
Elphaba places the gentlest, featherlight kiss beside Galinda’s ear, meets her eyes, nudges their noses together, and whispers, “You're perfect.”
“Ah!” Galinda cries out.
It bursts its way through her: searing, trembling, volcanic. Punches noises from her lungs she’s never made before. Tears squeeze out of the corners of her eyes. Elphaba’s free hand cradles her face; Elphaba’s lips cover hers to swallow the sounds.
So that’s what people are talking about, she thinks distantly, when they say an orgasm can be earth-shattering.
Galinda’s trembling, trembling as she comes down. She can’t seem to catch her breath. Elphaba’s nails scratch a soothing rhythm up and down her inner thigh; her other hand cards through Galinda’s hair. She’s smiling down at Galinda, utterly tender, like she’s never seen anything better in her life. Like she’d never look away.
Galinda grabs Elphaba’s head and yanks her down to meet her lips again. Elphie laughs, bracing herself before she can collapse on Galinda all the way. Hums into the kiss.
“I really like you, Elphaba Thropp,” Galinda says again.
“I really like you, too,” Elphaba replies, smoothing Galinda’s hair.
Galinda sits up to kick off her panties, finally, but not so Elphaba can touch her again—at least not right away. Just so they can lie there completely naked with one another in front of the fireplace. So they’re even. She tugs Elphaba down on top of her, reveling in the weight and the pressure, and tucks her nose into Elphaba’s neck.
“My sweet,” Elphaba murmurs softly, kissing her hair.
Fuck Glinda’s advice, Galinda decides, one hand carding through Elphaba’s braids, eyes cataloguing every feature of her gorgeous, perfect face. I’m sticking with Elphaba no matter where she goes.
When the rain clears up hours later, they redress and trudge their way through the woods, back to campus. Galinda puts Elphaba’s boots back on; Elphaba borrows a pair of boots from whoever owns the cabin after Galinda assures her they won’t be missed.
She feels loose, unspooled in a way she never has before. She finds herself in a very silly mood, and can’t seem to stop giggling at nothing. She clings to Elphie’s hand, to her arm, singing and skipping and twirling. Stops to pepper her face with kisses every few steps. She’s perhaps being what one might call a bit too much, except Elphaba seems awfully bemused with her, so she thinks it’s probably fine.
Their friends pester them all evening over dinner—Where did you two go all day? Why are you both covered in dirt? What’s so funny? No, really, Galinda, what’s so funny? You’ve been laughing to yourself all night.
When they return to their room, they shower together and slide into Galinda’s bed together and Galinda slips her fingers between Elphaba’s legs and nearly comes herself, completely untouched, just from the thrill of touching her again and it’s all wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.
She falls asleep feeling like she’s floating in a little bubble.
The train station is a hectic bustle. It seems all of Shiz has come out to see Elphaba off. Galinda is at once delighted and miffed.
Of course Elphaba deserves the sendoff of sendoffs! But Galinda can’t seem to catch her, what with everyone clamoring for her attention.
When Galinda finally manages to catch up with her—shoving her way through the crowd, shouting, “Elphie, the train is here! And it’s come with the cutest little man with a mustache, you’ve gotta see him!”—Elphie’s talking with Fiyero, who’s busy batting his eyelashes at her and handing her a single beautiful poppy. It puts an ugly, jealous twist in her gut to see it. She frowns, swallows down the feeling as best she can.
“I’m happy for you,” Fiyero is telling her. Elphaba is twisting the flower by its stem, the red-orange petals twirling in the sunlight.
“Thank you,” says Elphaba softly.
Fiyero, technically, is still Galinda’s sort-of unofficial boyfriend. She hasn’t talked with him yet about the everything of it all. She’ll do it while Elphie is in the Emerald City, she’s decided. That way Elphie can come back and be hers all hers, and everything will be exactly as it should be.
“Yes,” Galinda says, interrupting. She slings an arm around Fiyero’s waist, budging into his side, and watches Elphaba’s eyes track the motion. Watches Elphaba’s brow furrow for a fraction of a second. “We are both so happy.”
“I’ve been thinking,” Fiyero continues as if Galinda’s not even there, focus still entirely on Elphaba, “about the Lion cub, and Dr. Dillamond. I think about that day a lot.”
Elphaba’s focus is back on Fiyero, warm, polite. Galinda feels small and stupid, like she’s intruding when by all accounts she belongs in this conversation.
“So do I,” Elphaba says sweetly, and, oh, she’d sworn to Galinda she’s not in love with Fiyero (and proved it enough times the past couple days, to boot), but won’t she at least look at Galinda while she’s talking to him? Galinda’s right here, after all, and looking fetching! Even with her high collar to hide the hickeys Elphaba left on her neck, she’s certain she looks just captivacious today!
“Oh, me too,” Galinda interjects, and they both finally look at her, as if noticing her for the first time. “Oh, me too, me too. I think about it constantly.” She worms her way between them, reaching for Elphaba now, weaving their arms together and forcing Fiyero back a step or two. “I mean, poor Dr. Dillamond! It makes one want to—” She looks at Fiyero, then Elphaba, then Fiyero again. “To take a stand!” she decides, looking into Elphaba’s eyes. Elphaba is holding back a smile and an eye roll both, Galinda can tell, with all her might. Fiyero just raises an eyebrow. They’re amused.
They don’t take her seriously.
Oh, but they take each other plenty seriously, she’s sure! It burns through her.
“In fact,” Galinda huffs, annoyified now, and shoves her way out of their little three person huddle, “Excuse me! Everyone!” She claps her hands, drawing Shiz to attention. “Please! I have an announcement!”
The student body of Shiz does quiet and turn to look at her. She’s always been rather good at grabbing their attention, she knows.
“I… am changing my name,” she says. A run of gasps.
“Your name?” Fiyero calls from somewhere behind her.
“Yes.” She flips her hair over her shoulder.
“Are you sure?” Elphaba adds.
“Yes.” Galinda flips her hair a second time. “Since Dr. Dillamond used to have his own… goat-like way of pronouncifying my name, in solidarity, and in order to express my outrage, I will henceforward be known no longer as Ga-linda. But simply… Glinda.”
The students of Shiz clap and cheer, but Galinda turns to look at Fiyero and Elphie, searching their faces for even a fraction of the gravitas they grant to one another. Instead, they’re exchanging little smirks, and Galinda—Glinda—feels like a fool.
Still, she turns and bows low to the applauding crowd of students before darting back to them.
Fiyero takes off before Galinda—Glinda—can say a word and without sparing her a second glance. She looks to Elphie for… anything. She’s pouting, she knows it, and Elphaba’s still spinning that poppy between her fingertips. Galinda wants to throw the stupid flower to the ground and smash its petals under her heel.
“What was that?” Galinda—wait, Glinda, that’s going to take some getting used to—demands. Elphaba rolls her eyes, smiling.
“Don’t be upset, Galinda, he just came to say goodbye.”
“It’s Glinda now! Stupid, I don’t even know what made me say it!” Galinda—no, Glinda, Glinda, she’s Glinda, she’s gone and gotten rid of her precious Ga, and for what?—complains.
“It doesn’t even matter what your name is,” Elphaba admonishes her lightly, “everyone loves you.”
“I don’t care.” Glinda stomps a dainty foot. Quietly, low enough that no one else will overhear, she admits: “I want you. I don’t even think we’re perfect for each other, and I still want you.” Elphie’s gaze softens. “This must be what other people feel like. How do they bear it?”
Elphaba’s biting the inside of her cheek, trying clearly to not smile. She reaches up, tucking that poppy behind Glinda’s ear.
“You have me,” Elphaba assures her, brushing a thumb across her cheek before reaching for her hands. “You look very pretty today, my sweet. I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to talk to you and say goodbye properly.”
“All aboard, to the Emerald City!” a man’s voice rings out. Glinda thrills.
“The mustache man!” she says, squeezing Elphaba’s hand. “The train! Come on!”
Elphaba gets waylaid by another group of students, and someone catches Glinda by the elbow. When she turns, she finds herself face-to-face with—
“Old me!” she gasps.
“Not old,” her older self growls under her breath.
The two of them duck behind a column, a small half-wall.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so distant and distractified lately,” Older Glinda—Glinda the Good—says. “I do care about you, of course, it’s just—work has been so—well, you’ll understand when you’re older, I suppose.”
“Yes, I—I suppose,” Glinda murmurs. A sudden wash of guilt. Glinda the Good looks tired, and Glinda remembers with a pang how much she’d wanted to help her, to make her life easier. In their time apart and out of communication she’d grown frustrated but now, facing her—
“Are you alright?” Glinda the Good asks, squeezing her hand. “You look a bit pale, dear.”
“Yes, I—” Glinda clears her throat. “I have something of a confession to make.”
“You shed the Ga?” Glinda the Good asks, eyes twinkling. “Yes, I caught the end of that little performance. Sweet Oz, the things we’ll do in front of a crowd.”
Glinda bites her lip. “I did do that. But… Well, that’s not the confession.”
Glinda the Good stares at her, and the serene smile drops off her face. “You didn’t.”
“I—”
“Galinda. Please tell me you didn’t—”
“You wouldn’t understand!”
“No, you did not have sex with her,” Glinda the Good hisses, “after I explicitishly told you not to do that!”
“But I…” Glinda trails off. She wrings her hands together. “I’m afraid I love her quite a bit.”
The disappointment on Glinda the Good’s face stings like a slap. Glinda looks down at her feet. Glinda the Good sighs softly, tsks between her teeth.
“I’m sorry,” Glinda murmurs. “I did want to make life easier for you, and—I know you told me rather firmly and quite a few times not to get close to her, but…”
“Galinda,” Glinda the Good murmurs, massaging one temple.
There’s a lump in Glinda’s throat now. “I’ve never met anyone like her before,” Glinda insists. “Never met anyone who makes me feel like this. And I’ve tried—I’ve tried so hard to stay away, or to find one bad thing about her, one thing wrong with her, and I… Even the most infurifying things about her, I adore. And I just don’t get it—you never told me why—I can’t understand why we wouldn’t want her. So, please, please help me understand—just tell me what she did to us—”
“No,” Glinda the Good says, eyes shut.
“Yes,” Glinda insists. “What did she do? You need to tell me, because otherwise—”
“I can’t,” Glinda the Good says, biting her lip.
“Then I can’t stay away from her! Because there is nothing she could possibly do,” Glinda declares, “that could make me not want her anymore—”
“Except perhaps die.”
Glinda takes a half step back. Her chest gets tight. “No,” she murmurs.
Her older self squeezes her eyes shut.
“She’s going to die, Galinda,” she says. “And she’ll die after she’s embedded herself so thoroughly in the fabric of your being—after she’s, oh, tattooed herself on your heart and you’re not even sure how it’ll beat without her there—after you can’t even imagine loving anybody else ever again. She dies, and she ruins your life along the way, she leaves you so—” Glinda the Good pauses, sniffles slightly. “So woefully, dreadfully alone. And you’ll be alone forever, because you’re right, there’s nobody else like her. Not one person who measures up in all of Oz. And you’ll have to live out the rest of your life knowing you’ll never meet another Elphaba Thropp ever again.”
A long beat. The clamor of the train station feels miles away. “I could—” Glinda starts.
“No, you can’t,” Glinda the Good says. “I know what you’re thinking, I know what you’re going to say, but no, you can’t stop it from happening. You can’t save her. There’s nothing either of you can do. She’s going to leave you—and you can’t stop her from doing that, either—and then she’s going to die.”
Glinda blinks rapidly. Her heart feels like it’s crumbling down to dust in her chest. Her Elphie—her Elphie—
She can’t even bear to picture it!
“You can’t find anything wrong with Elphaba Thropp,” Glinda the Good declares, and the tears hovering on her lower lid escape confinement and slide down her cheeks, “because there is nothing wrong with Elphaba Thropp. Not one thing.”
Glinda has to look away.
“Galinda, it is so hard,” she insists. “It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to witness—the worst feeling—” Her voice hitches over a little hiccup, and oh, Glinda realizes she’s crying too when her older self grabs her hands. “Oh, darling, I don’t want you to ever have to feel like this! So please, please listen to me, and when she asks you to go with her—”
“Go with her?”
“—please don’t get on that train,” Glinda the Good begs. “This is your last chance.”
“She asks me to go with her?” Glinda repeats, caught on this detail. Glinda the Good squeezes her hands, desperate.
“Hey, Glinda! There you are.”
They both turn at once as Elphaba, breathless, swings around the corner. She stops in her tracks.
“Sorry,” Elphaba says cautiously. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Glinda looks to Glinda the Good, then to Elphaba again.
“Hang on,” Glinda says. “You can see her?”
“See her?” Elphaba’s got one of those small smiles. She’s clearly holding back a laugh. “Well… Yes? Why, am I not supposed to?”
Glinda the Good turns her face away, wiping her tears as surreptitiously as she can. Glinda panics, and scrambles for an explanation:
“This is my Great Aunt—”
“Oziandra!” Both Glindas say at the same time. They exchange a glance.
“Oh,” Elphaba says. “Well, that explains the resemblance, I suppose. It’s nice to meet you.” She holds her hand out for Glinda the Good to shake. “My name is Elphaba Thropp.”
Glinda the Good shakes her hand like she’s touching glass. Her voice is a whisper. “Oh, Elphie—Elphaba. How do you do?”
“I’m—fine. So, I, um.” Elphaba turns back to Glinda, and that attention—it’s like sunlight. “I wanted to give you a proper farewell before I left. And I wanted to ask you if there was anything you wanted me to get for you in the city—any trinket or souvenir. I know I won’t be there for very long, but if there’s something you’d been thinking about…”
Glinda feels Glinda the Good’s eyes on them. Observing carefully. She glances sideways, catches her gaze. Glinda the Good is smiling softly at Elphie; she has tears in her eyes again, running freely down her cheeks. Glinda remembers: Elphaba will die.
“I’m sorry,” Elphaba cuts herself off, starting to back away. “I really didn’t mean to interrupt a family conversation. Glinda, I can surprise you. I’ll let you get back to—”
“No, no! No, please don’t leave!” Glinda the Good interrupts, voice shot through with a thread of desperation. She huffs, straightens her crown, recomposes herself. Wipes her tears. “Not to worry, darling. This is your moment, I don’t want to impose. I was—I should be going. You stay with your Ga—your Glinda. And I’ll…” She gestures vaguely with her wand, takes a step back. “Much to do, after all, much to do.” She swipes away tears as fast as they come.
“Hang on,” Elphaba asks, “are you alright?”
“Oh, perfectly!” Glinda the Good trills. “Perfectly, dearest, I’m perfect. Don’t you worry one twig about me.” She pauses, stares at Elphaba’s face for a long moment. “It was…” She sniffs. “Wonderful to meet you.”
“It was nice to meet you, too,” Elphaba says, and before any of them know what’s happening, Glinda the Good lets her wand clatter to the ground and throws her arms around Elphaba, weeping into her shoulder. Elphaba looks surprised for a moment, but, oh, sweet thing that she is, she holds Glinda the Good in return, patting her shoulder.
The embrace lingers. Glinda the Good inhales the scent of Elphaba’s hair, and Elphaba gives Glinda a half-concerned, amused look over her shoulder. Glinda just shrugs, then finds she has to look away. She’ll give Glinda the Good this moment.
“Goodbye, darling. Oh, goodbye.” Glinda the Good tears herself out of Elphaba’s embrace. She leans down to pick up her wand, but otherwise says not another word to either of them as she walks away.
“Is she alright?” Elphaba asks.
“Oh, don’t worry about her. She’s a touch histrionic,” Glinda answers, trying to blink back tears that hover but refuse to fall. “She’ll be just fine, I’m sure.”
“Are you okay?” Elphaba asks, fiddling with Glinda’s hair even though it’s all neatly pinned back. “My sweet?” Glinda smiles through the mistiness.
“Perfectly, Elphie,” she says, and Elphaba pokes her dimple, making her giggle. The train blows its whistle, and both of them startle. “Oh, darling, you’ll be late! You must learn to stop dawdling like this, or you’ll always be rushing no matter where you go. Oh, and take this.” Galinda hands her the travel pamphlet she’d gotten for her as they speed-walk, arm-in-arm. “I know it’s just for a day, but I want to hear all about it. Everything you see, everything you do, everywhere you go! Now, go, go, before you miss it altogether.”
Hand-in-hand, they dart to the train doors, and only let go as Elphaba boards. Elphaba waves goodbye to Shiz, but her eyes are just for Glinda. The train starts to depart, and Glinda waves farewell.
And then, just as the train starts pulling out of the station, a last-minute shout from Elphaba:
“Come with me!”
Glinda hesitates. Glances behind her one last time, searching for herself on the platform.
“Glinda! Get on the train, you’re gonna miss it!”
Glinda’s head whips forward. She meets Elphaba’s eyes, and knows:
Glinda will run. Glinda will catch that train. Elphie will take her by the hands and pull her onboard. Together they will collapse on the floor in a heap of giggles and kisses. Glinda will fall deeply, irrevocably in love with Elphaba Thropp.
Then she will lose her again and again and again until she loses her forever.
She will, she will, she will.
She runs.
From the desk of Her Goodness, Glinda A. Upland, Throne Minister of Oz:
Dearest, darlingest Glinda,
I’m afraid I must apologize for what I’ve put you through these past several months. I’ve been rude, and unthoughtful, and judgementical, and I asked something rather unfair of you. My hope was that if I could spare us some pain, it might be a boon to us both. But I realize now, upon a bit of reflectifying, that in sparing us that pain, I would also have kept you from the best part of your life. It’s dreadful, really. For someone they call good, I really can be so awful.
So let me set the record straight:
I’m so happy you fell in love with Elphaba Thropp. Loving Elphie is a gift. And being loved by her? It’s the best thing in the world. The only thing that matters. What an honor it is to have known her, and for her to have known you in return. What a blessing. What a joy.
I’m so very sorry for your loss.
I love you. I hope you can forgive me someday.
Kisses,
Galinda ♡